Stairway To Heaven
by Clowns or Midgets
Summary: AU. To save his brother, Sam makes a deal with The Devil. The creature he expects and the man he actually encounters are two different beings, and soon he will have to choose between what he knows is right and what his heart desires. Co-Written with Snarkymuch2. Edited repost. Past tense.
1. Chapter 1

**This is not a new story. This is a reedit and repost of my collab story with Snarkymuch2. It has previously been posted on her profile alone. I am editing and changing to past tense for those readers that don't like present tense reading. That said, any feedback would be more than welcome as we are currently working on the sequel and we would love to know what you would like to see more/less of. Also, for you reluctant slash readers, there are no graphic scenes in this story. It is first and foremost a love story.**

**I can claim no credit for this chapter as it was written solely by Snarkymuch2. I didn't play a part of the writing process until chapter two. **

* * *

**Chapter One**

"Sam, run!" Dean yelled as he pushed Sam in front of him. "Hurry!"

The hellhounds cried out in the night, howling and baying in the distance. Sam could almost feel the energy of them crackling in the night air. The pounding beats of paws grew closer, louder, and Dean and Sam pushed themselves faster. Sam's legs were beginning to tremble as they ducked into an alleyway.

Dean found an old, green door recessed into the brickwork of the alley wall. He shoved it with his shoulder and the old lock gave way. "This way, Sammy."

Sam looked back over his shoulder. He could hear the hounds close, too close. They were huffing and snarling as they closed the distance between them. Sam was almost hypnotized by the sound. He thought back to his dream from the night before, to Lucifer. Lucifer had said that he would hunt them, hunt Dean, until Sam gave himself up. This must have been what he meant. The Devil had told him all he had to do was say yes, or at the least, come with him. Give him a chance to explain his side of things. He never thought the Devil would send hellhounds after him.

Dean grabbed a fistful of Sam's jacket and yanked him towards the door. "Let's go," he said as he shoved Sam inside. The hallway they found themselves in smelled of urine and garbage. There was a narrow staircase and Dean grabbed Sam, dragging him up it.

The hounds clawed and howled at the door, begging for entrance. The lock didn't hold them long, though. As soon as they began to throw their weight at it, Sam knew it was over.

Just as Dean dragged Sam around the corner at the top of the stairs, there was a bang and the sound of heavy paws slamming into the floor.

"Shit! Run, Sammy!" Dean shoved Sam forward and turned to face the oncoming hounds. With a rush of air, Dean was thrown back into the wall, and claw marks appeared on his chest. It was too familiar for Sam, and he thought back to what it was like to see Dean get dragged to hell. He didn't want to put his brother through it again. He had to make the deal.

"Lucifer!" Sam cried as he ran and grabbed at the invisible hound, cutting his arms and side in the process. Blood was everywhere, Dean and Sam's mixed together. "Call them off and I'll go with you!"

Using all his strength, Sam worked his way between Dean and the hellhound. His hands were slippery with blood and he could feel the teeth cutting and slicing his flesh. He began to wonder if Lucifer was in fact just going to leave them both to die.

"Lucifer!"

Suddenly, the hounds whined and fell back. They cried out as if they were in pain, and Sam wondered if they were.

"What…?" Dean said, panting. "Sam?"

Sam looked at Dean apologetically and then hung his head. "I'm sorry."

Dean pushed himself off the wall and, holding his bleeding side, he walked over to Sam. "What's going on, Sam?"

"I'm sorry, Dean, but I have to do this." Sam drew back a bloody fist and landed a blow to Dean's jaw, sending him tumbling back to the floor.

Sam walked out of the building and headed to the street. He went to the car and grabbed his duffel. With a hung head, he walked out to the alleyway and fell to his knees, praying to the one angel that they all feared, that they all knew could end it all. He prayed to Lucifer.

With sweaty, bloody hands, he waited, the damp ground soaking through his jeans. Blood dripped down his fingertips and onto the cold damp ground.

There was a faint fluttering of wings and then he knew he was not alone. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. For a moment, he regretted what he was doing. Maybe he should find another way, but then he remembered what it was like to see Dean being torn to pieces by the hellhounds, and he set his jaw. No matter what Lucifer did to him, he wouldn't say yes. He couldn't.

Lucifer approached him slowly, head tilted to the side. "You're hurt," the angel said solemnly, as if the knowledge pained him.

Sam swallowed and looked up at him. "Only because of you."

"Believe me, Sam, I didn't want you injured. You're my vessel, my other half. Having you hurt doesn't serve my purpose."

Sam looked up at him with contempt. "If I go with you, do you promise to keep Dean safe?"

The devil was calm and cool, and it made Sam cringe. "Of course. I won't let a demon so much as touch a hair on his head."

Sam nodded. He was doing this for Dean and no one else. "So are we going or what?" Sam said quietly. He didn't want to play Lucifer's games. He didn't want to talk to the fallen angel.

Lucifer nodded. He reached out and touched Sam's shoulder and, a moment later, they were gone.

When they reappeared, they were in what looked like a rundown motel.

"Home sweet home, Sammy," Lucifer chimed.

Sam clutched a hand to the wounds on his side. He was still kneeling. "Where are we?"

"Detroit."

Sam nodded and looked around. The room was shabby and worn. There were two beds, both still made. A small fridge hummed in the corner, struggling on its last legs. The curtains were drawn, and a dim lamp lit the corner of the room.

Sam was beginning to feel dizzy from the blood loss. He leaned down and pressed a hand to the threadbare carpet. The room spun a little.

Lucifer took a step forward and looked at him quizzically, as if he was not really sure what he was meant to say. "You're in pain."

Sam tosses him a bitch face. "Yes, Lucifer, I'm in pain. What gave it away?"

Lucifer kneeled down in front of him, slowly extending a hand.

Sam cringed back. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Healing you," the Devil said plainly.

"Maybe I don't want to be healed."

Lucifer sighed and folded his hands together. "I don't want you to suffer."

Sam studied the fallen angel. He looked genuine in his concern for Sam, and it unnerved Sam a little. The Devil should never look so caring.

"I don't need your help," Sam said defiantly and pushed himself up to stand. He winced in pain as the claw marks pulled. He could feel a fresh trickle of blood rolling down his side. He pressed his hand back to his side and felt the blood spill out over his hand. He wavered on his feet. He could see Lucifer out of the corner of his eye, watching him. Sam had nearly bled out enough times to know when he was about to cross the fickle line of bad and really bad, and he was about to cross that line.

Taking a shaky step, he began to walk toward the bed. Just as he reached the foot of the bed, he wavered. The room spun and he fell forward in a heap. The last thing he heard was the blood rushing in his ears and Lucifer whispering his name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks go to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Aldrovanda for pre-reading, to SPN MUM for letting me know I was still missing things in the past/present tense changes, and to Gredelina1 for listening to me as attempted to fix those mistakes. **

* * *

**Chapter Two**

When Sam woke, he felt refreshed, which in itself confused him. The last thing he remembered was feeling blood seeping through his fingers. His hand instinctively moved to his side to feel for the wound there, but he felt nothing, not even a shirt. His brain kicked into gear then, and he opened his eyes and looked around. His gaze fell on Lucifer, who was sitting on the bed adjacent to the one he was on, looking concerned.

Sam pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked down to see his chest bare and clean. "You healed me."

"I did."

"I said I didn't want your help. What part didn't you understand?"

"I couldn't let you die, Sam," Lucifer stated as if it was obvious.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Can I at least have a shirt?"

Lucifer motioned to the small table. "I did you the service of collecting your belongings. Although, I have to say, you don't have much."

"Don't need much." Sam got up and grabbed his bag from the table. Digging through it, he pulled out a shirt and put it on. Lucifer's gaze never left him.

"Are you just going to keep staring at me?"

Lucifer frowned, little lines appearing between his brows. "Is it bothering you?"

It bothered Sam immensely. It made his skin crawl. "Yes, actually."

Lucifer looked away. "I want you to be comfortable, Sam."

Sam licked his lips. "Yeah, sure you do. Right up to where you want to wear me as your meat suit."

"It wouldn't be all that terrible, you know. I wouldn't harm you. Your consciousness would stay intact. We would be together, Sam."

"As much as I would like that, I think I am just going to go... I don't know what I'm going to do. Am I allowed to leave?"

"With me, yes. Alone, no."

Sam huffed and sat back down on the bed. "So this is it, your great and masterful plan. This is how you plan on getting me to say yes, by boring me to death?"

Lucifer tilted his head. "Why can't you understand this is for the best?"

"Because this isn't. Ending humanity, destroying the world, that's not for the best. The only reason I'm here is to protect Dean, that's it, so you can keep your angel mojo to yourself. I don't want to be healed, and I don't want to be your meat suit. Torture me, kill me, whatever, but the answer's no."

Lucifer stared at him for a moment and then got up and walked to the window. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Sam. It's only going to make things harder for you."

* * *

The next day was spent in near silence. Sam paced the small room while Lucifer watched. Sam thought of Dean and of what he must be thinking. He wondered if he was okay. The wounds he'd had weren't fatal, but that didn't make him worry any less.

"Your brother is well, I can assure you," Lucifer said, as if he was reading Sam's mind. Maybe he was.

Sam looked over at him. "I'm going to find a way out of this."

Lucifer shrugged. He looked a bit smug. "I don't doubt you'll try."

Sam huffed and walked over to his bag. He dug through it, curious as to what else the Devil deemed worthy of packing. His hand bumped something cold and hard and he realized that his knife was in the bag. He tucked that piece of information away for later. It might come in handy.

He found his dad's journal and pulled it out. Sighing, he walked over to the bed and flopped down.

"It's time for you to eat," Lucifer stated, looking at his watch.

Sam scoffed.

Lucifer scrunched his brow and tilted his head. He looked at Sam like that for a moment. "You haven't eaten in nearly a day."

"I'm not hungry."

Lucifer looked at him, amused. "I can hear your stomach."

Sam thought that that was just a bit too much, and he pushed himself back up. "Look, I don't know what you're playing at, but this needs to stop. This whole nice act. It's not okay. This is not okay."

Lucifer raised a brow. "Are you done?"

Sam licked his lips. "Yeah. I'm done."

"Good. Now, what do you want to eat?"

Sam was hungry, but he shook his head. "I'm not eating and you can't make me." It came out more childish than it sounded in Sam's head.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. "Don't underestimate me, Sam. I don't take well to my things talking back."

Sam stared back at him. "Fuck you."

Lucifer roared and threw his arms up. Just as he did, Sam was thrown back by an invisible force. He hit the wall hard and it knocked the wind out of him. He gasped for breath.

Lucifer turned and stared at him, his eyes dark.

Sam clutched his side. He was pretty sure he'd broken a rib. He took a slow breath and felt it pull painfully. He winced despite himself.

"I've hurt you." Lucifer looked solemn. "I didn't... It wasn't my intent."

Sam scowled and limped over to the bed. "Just go away."

"I can't..."

"Just shut up and go away," Sam said through pained breaths. Nothing Lucifer could say would make this any better.

Sam lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. So far, Lucifer had respected his request to be left alone, and Sam was thankful.

There was a flutter of wings, and Sam opened his eyes and looked around. Lucifer was gone. For a moment, Sam was stunned. The Devil had left him alone. Maybe he could make an escape.

Moving as quickly as he could, Sam got up and moved to the door, but before he got across the room, he heard the angel returning behind him.

"Where are you going?"

Sam turned and looked at him. "Nowhere." He ran his hand through his hair.

Lucifer eyed him carefully and then nodded. "I brought food."

Sam took a breath. The food smelled good, and it made his stomach growl. He pushed the feeling down and walked past Lucifer back to the bed. He sat back down gingerly, trying not to jar his rib.

Lucifer walked over to the bed and sat beside him. He opened the bag and pulled out the Styrofoam container, offering it to Sam. Sam didn't accept it though. He just shook his head.

"You've got to eat, Sam," Lucifer said softly.

Sam took a pained breath, rubbing his side. "I'm not in the mood."

Lucifer sighed and put the food back into the bag. "Then let me heal you."

"No," Sam said. "No angel mojo."

They fell into silence. Sam pushed himself up and away from Lucifer. He didn't like being that close. He went to the other bed and lay down carefully, avoiding putting any weight on his bruised side. He closed his eyes and thought back to the last time he saw Dean and the way he had to leave him. It wasn't fair, but he hoped Dean would understand if he knew.

Sam yawned and pulled the pillow closer under his head. He was tired and his body hurt. He fell asleep knowing that the fallen angel was only steps away, watching him sleep.

* * *

Sam woke to his side hurting. He winced and pressed a hand to his rib. He was surprised to be honest. He had expected Lucifer to heal him once he was asleep. It wasn't as if the angel had any issues with crossing boundaries before.

Sam rubbed his forehead and pushed himself up onto one elbow, looking around the room. Lucifer was standing by the window, watching him. His face was drawn.

"How are you?"

Sam looked at him. Lucifer's concern for him was taking some getting used to. "I'm sore."

Lucifer nodded but didn't say anything else. Sam felt uneasy at the ease with which Lucifer let it go.

"Can I see?" Lucifer asked finally. "I would like to see the damage I've caused you."

Sam was struck by the request. He wasn't expecting that. He looked at Lucifer, really looked at him, and what he saw surprised him. Lucifer looked genuine in his concern.

Lucifer put up his hands. "I won't heal you if you don't want me to. I just want to look."

Sam sighed and then, without a good explanation for why he was doing it, he lifted his arm and raised his shirt.

Lucifer seemed truly horrorstruck by the dark red and purple bruising that marred his side. He walked over to Sam and reached out to him, as if he needed to touch it.

As Lucifer's fingertips brushed against Sam's skin, Sam curled back from the touch.

"Let me heal you," Lucifer pleaded.

Sam looked into his eyes and saw nothing he expected to. They were gentle and nearly kind, nothing like the Devil should be.

Sam found himself nodding before even realized it. The next thing he felt was Lucifer's cool hand gently pressing over the broken rib. He felt a rush of energy pass through him, and then the pain was gone as if it was never there. He stretched tentatively, but there was no protest from his injury. He had been healed.

"Thank you," Sam said before he could stop himself.

Lucifer smiled. "It was my pleasure."

Sam scowled at him. "Was breaking it your pleasure, too?"

Lucifer's smile faded. "I have told you already, Sam, I don't want to hurt you."

"So far you've haven't shown that very well."

"It was an accident," Lucifer said. "In my defense, you are a very aggravating human."

Sam sighed and looked at Lucifer. "You're one to talk. I don't see how you can say anything about humanity when you've only seen the bad."

Lucifer waved a hand at him dismissively. "I have seen all I need to see. Your race thrives on conflict and rage. You start wars and destroy your planet with abandon. This great creation of my father's is being destroyed by your kind, and you are all aware of it, yet you do nothing to stop it."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but he fell silent, at a loss for words. Lucifer had a point.

"See, you cannot refute my words."

"It's not all bad. There's good out there too if you look for it."

A slow smile crept over Lucifer's face. "Very well, Sam Winchester. Show me the good of humanity."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks go to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Aldrovanda for pre-reading, to SPN MUM for letting me know I was still missing things in the past/present tense changes, and to Gredelina1 for listening to me as I attempted to fix those mistakes — CoM x**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Dean woke on a dirty floor to burning pain and a sensation of impending doom. His mind took a moment to present him with memories of what had happened before he was knocked out. When the memories came, they made him lurch to his feet and cry out his brother's name.

"Sam!"

He rooted through his pockets and pulled out his phone. Dialing the familiar number, he waited as it rang.

Castiel's familiar voice came over the receiver. "Hello, Dean."

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Cas, man, we've got a problem. I need you to come get me."

"Where are you?"

"Canton, Ohio. Hang on, give me a second." He made his way out onto the street and looked for something to locate him. He saw a sign on a corner illuminated by the streetlight. "I'm on the corner of Park and Main," he said. "Outside a deli."

"I am coming now," Castiel said and then the phone went dead.

Dean had all of five seconds to pace and worry as he waited before he heard the rustling sound that portended Castiel's arrival.

Castiel smiled and then his expression became solemn as he saw Dean's torn and bloodstained shirt. "You're injured." He stepped forward and peered at the gashes on Dean's chest.

"Never mind that," Dean said, waving him off. "We've got bigger problems at the moment. Sam said yes!"

Castiel's eyes widened. "What happened?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure. One minute we were being chased by hellhounds, and the next, Sam's shouting to Lucifer and knocking me out."

Castiel shook his head. "This is not good."

"Ya think?" Dean's hands fisted at his sides. "The dumb bastard said yes to the Devil. Things don't get much worse than this."

Castiel sighed. "Well, there is nothing to do now but wait."

"Wait?" Dean growled. "Seriously. The world is about to came crashing down around us and you want to wait!"

"I am open to suggestions," Castiel said serenely. "What do you think we should do?"

Dean huffed out a breath and resumed his pacing. His mind raced as he proposed and discounted plans in the blink of an eye. What mattered to him now was Sam. He needed to see him.

"We need to call Chuck," he said.

"To what end?"

"He's the writer. He'll know where I can find Sam."

Castiel sighed and looked oddly sympathetic. "Your brother is gone, Dean."

"He is not dead!" Dean said vehemently.

"I didn't say he is dead. I said he is gone. If Lucifer has taken Sam as his vessel, your brother will be repressed and unreachable. There is nothing you can do now."

Dean waved away Castiel's words and pulled his phone from his pocket again. Scrolling through his contacts, he found Chuck's number and pressed the call button.

Chuck's voice came over the receiver. He didn't sound drunk or drowsy, which was an oddity in itself. "I've been waiting for your call," he said.

"And you didn't think to warn us?" Dean said with barely repressed rage.

"I couldn't interfere," Chuck said. "The angels were pretty firm about it."

"You know what? Screw the angels, and screw you, too," Dean shouted. "My brother's just given himself up to Satan and you didn't want to interfere. What good are you?"

"He hasn't said yes, Dean," Chuck said softly.

Dean was brought up short by that. His breath huffed out of him in a whoosh. "He hasn't?" His voice came out small and uncertain. "Then what the hell is Lucifer doing to him?" Vile images came to Dean's mind of Sam being tortured as Lucifer worked towards that coveted yes.

"So far, Lucifer's healed his wounds and now he's watching him sleep."

Chuck's words took some time to sink in, and when they did, Dean found himself at a loss for words. Of all the scenarios he'd thought up, none of them included Lucifer taking care of Sam.

"As far as I can tell, he is not in any immediate danger," Chuck said.

"No danger? He is with Lucifer, Satan, the guy working to end the world."

Chuck sighed. "I can't predict the future, Dean. I can only tell you what I've seen. At the moment, Sam is being taken care of. You, on the other hand, are not. You need to go to Bobby's so he can take care of you." Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Chuck cut him off. "Dean, you won't do your brother any good like this. Go to Bobby's. I'll call you as soon as I see anything new."

"The hell with that! Screw Bobby's! We're coming straight to you."

"Actually, you won't. In about five seconds Cas is going to knock you out and take you to Bobby's anyway."

Dean turned on his heel and scowled at Castiel just as the angel reached forward and pressed his fingertips to Dean's temple.

* * *

Dean woke to the painful sensation of someone tugging at his flesh. He opened his eyes and looked around as the memories came flooding back. Bobby was bent over him, stitching the wounds on his chest.

Bobby put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't move. I'm almost done."

Dean slumped back on the couch, looking down at the damage. "Did Cas fill you in?"

Bobby shook his head as he pulled the last stitch through. "Nope. He dropped you on my couch and then disappeared again.

"Did he say where he was going?"

"No, and I was too busy keeping you from bleeding out to ask." Bobby snipped the thread and then laid a white gauze dressing over the wound. "So, care to tell me how you ended up looking like this? It looks like a hellhound used you as a chew toy."

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "That's because it did."

Bobby gaped at him. "A hellhound?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Me and Sam were coming down of a gig in Ohio when we were attacked."

"How did you get away?" Bobby asked then he paled. "Hang on! Where's Sam?"

"He's not dead," Dean said immediately, seeing the fear in Bobby's eyes. "He is being taken care of."

"And you're not together, because...?"

Dean raised his eyes to look into Bobby's. "He is with Lucifer."

Bobby exhaled a shaky breath. "He said yes."

"That's where things get a little vague," Dean said. "According to Chuck, no. He said Sam is asleep and Satan is watching him."

Bobby frowned. "Boy, you ain't making a lick of sense."

Dean shrugged. "I'm just as confused as you are, Bobby. Sam and me were running from the hellhounds then Sam was shouting to Lucifer and knocking me out." He rubbed at his sore jaw. "When I woke up he was gone."

Bobby tugged off his cap and ran a hand through his graying hair. "So, he is with Lucifer, but he hasn't said yes."

Dean nodded. "Not yet anyway."

Bobby huffed a laugh. "One thing you gotta say about Sam, he keeps things interesting."

Dean couldn't find any amusement in the situation. He was about to say so when there was a rustling sound from Bobby's study. A moment later, Castiel appeared again, and he wasn't alone.

"Chuck?" Dean said. "What are you doing here?"

"Castiel asked me very nicely if I would like to came and stay with you guys," he said with a nervous laugh. "There was no threatening involved. I came of my own free will." He looked up as he spoke, as if expecting some divine voice to respond to him.

Recognizing a new facet in Chuck's already erratic behavior, Dean quirked a brow at Castiel.

"You went to get Chuck?"

Castiel nodded. "I thought you would feel better if you could speak with the prophet in person."

"You thought right," Dean said, pushing himself off of the couch and advancing on Chuck. "Tell me what's happening."

"I would if I could, but I don't know anything more than I told you. It's not like I've had a nap since we last talked."

Dean looked at Castiel. "Cas, put him to sleep."

Castiel stepped back from Chuck and raised his hands in the air. "I would but I don't want to incur the wrath of Raphael again. So far, he has been understanding of our need, and he hasn't felt the need to smite anyone. I don't want to tempt him."

Chuck nodded enthusiastically. "Good idea. No smiting."

Dean sighed and cupped his chin in his hand. "Okay, no angel mojo knocking you out. How about we made you a cup of cocoa and all stay real quiet so you can get some sleep?"

Chuck laughed nervously. "Cocoa won't cut it. You got any whiskey?"

Bobby wheeled himself over to the table and picked up the half-drunk bottle of whiskey there. He handed it to Chuck who took a swig from the bottle.

"That's better," Chuck said with a smile, and then he became serious. "I don't know any more of what's happening to Sam now, but I do know what happened before. Lucifer made him an offer he couldn't refuse."

"What is he, The Godfather?" Dean scoffed.

"Yeah, um, maybe," Chuck said and then laughed again. "He is the King of Hell."

"What was the offer?" Bobby asked.

Chuck took another swig of whiskey and began to speak. "Lucifer came to Sam in a dream a couple of days ago. He told Sam he would hunt you, Dean, until Sam gave up. The hellhounds were his tools. Sam knew when they came after you what would happen. He couldn't watch you die like that again, so he called Lucifer off."

Dean looked out of the window. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room upon him, but he couldn't bear to made eye contact with them. Sam did this for him. The knowledge made it all so much harder to bear. Sam was with Lucifer now to save him. Whatever he suffered under Lucifer, it would be Dean's fault.

"So, what do we do next?" Bobby asked, breaking the tense silence of the room.

Dean turned to Chuck. "Is there anything else we should know?"

Chuck looked uncomfortable. "I don't think so."

"Okay then," Bobby said. "Then I say it's time Chuck here got a little shuteye. Dean here'll show you where you can bed down. It's nothing fancy, mind."

Chuck looked relieved. "Do you mind if I take this to bed with me?" he asked, holding up the bottle of whiskey.

"Go ahead."

Dean led Chuck up the stairs to the second bedroom and said goodnight to him at the door. Then he went downstairs again to where Bobby and Cas were waiting for him.

"He is quite the character," Bobby said. "You did good bringing him here, Cas."

Dean nodded. "You really did, though at a hell of a risk. What if Raphael had came down on you again?"

"Then I would have fallen," Castiel said simply. "I was lucky though, he did not smite me. He seemed to be remarkably amiable compared to the last time I met with him, which was all for the better." Dean and Bobby merely looked their confusion, and Castiel sighed. "With Chuck comes Raphael, the archangel. As long as Chuck is under your protection here, you are under Raphael's."

Dean marveled at his friend's cunning. "Dammit, Cas, you never cease to amaze me."

Castiel looked pleased at the praise.

"Yeah, yeah," Bobby said. "You're a frickin' genius. Now, what the hell are we going to do about Sam?"

* * *

Though he didn't expect to, Dean did sleep that night. He woke to the smell of coffee and the sounds of soft voices downstairs.

He threw back his blankets and pulled on a pair of jeans. As he made his way down the stairs, he heard a snatch of Bobby and Castiel's conversation.

"Do you think Dean will be okay?" Castiel asked.

There was a rustling sound and Dean pictured Bobby taking off his cap to rake a hand through his hair as he always did when thinking hard. "Honest answer, I don't know. Him and Sam don't seem to work right when they're separated. The sooner we get Sam back, the better for them both."

"That seems an insurmountable task," Castiel said. "Wresting Sam from the Devil's grasp."

Castiel's words reached Dean and he sighed. It was a tall order, but they had to do it. They had no choice. They couldn't leave Sam with Lucifer.

He made his way down the stairs and entered the study. Bobby was seated at his desk and Castiel was standing in the corner. They both looked abashed as he entered, but Dean brazened it out, as if he hadn't heard them talking about him.

"Where's Chuck?" he asked.

"He is not up yet," Bobby said. "We figured it was best to let him sleep. The more he sleeps, the more he sees."

Dean nodded and crossed through the arch into the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped it slowly. What he would have really liked was a belt of whiskey, that would have eased his nerves a little, but he didn't want to add fire to Bobby and Castiel's worry for him. He and Sam didn't work right when they're apart, and it was killing him knowing Sam was trapped with Lucifer because of him, but he was damned if he was going to let them see it.

He made his way back into the study and perched on the edge of Bobby's bed. He sipped at his coffee and waited for sounds of movement overhead.

He doesn't have to wait long before Chuck appeared. He scrubbed a hand through his beard and yawned widely as he plodded into the study. "Morning," he said in a sleepy voice.

Castiel and Bobby both greeted him cordially but Dean asked the question that was burning through him. "What did you see?"

Chuck dropped his hand and looked into Dean's eyes. "Sam is okay."

Dean gestured for more, and Chuck shook his head. "What do you want to know?"

"What are they doing? How is Sam coping? Has Lucifer hurt him? I want to know everything."

"It doesn't work like that, Dean. I can't tell you everything. Until I've written it down, it won't made sense."

"You want us to wait while you type it all up nice and pretty?" Dean asked, incredulity dripping from his tone.

Chuck shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know any other way. This is how I focus my thoughts." He looked at Bobby. "Do you have a computer?"

Bobby shook his head. "I've got a typewriter."

Chuck looked like someone had just told him he was due for a coffee enema. "I guess that'll be okay," he said reluctantly.

"It's in the garage," Bobby said. "Under that pile of dust sheets."

Dean nodded and went out to the garage to collect the typewriter. As he passed Bobby's beat-up Chevelle he thought of the Impala. He'd left her in Canton, and at some point he would need to go pick her up, but not yet. It could wait till they had Sam back.

He found the typewriter, and he carried it back into the house and set it on the kitchen table. "Here you go, Chuck. Time to get your writer mojo on."

Chuck sat down at the table, and began to hammer away at the keys. Dean hovered at his shoulder for the first five minutes, but Chuck told him he was being distracting, so Dean paced the length of the room instead, trying to hold back the growl of frustration building in him. He had never felt more useless. Sam was being held by Satan, and all Dean could do was stand and wait for Chuck to finish a chapter.

After over an hour of waiting, Chuck pulled the last sheet of paper from the typewriter and handed it to Dean, looking apologetic.

"I would just like to remind you that I don't control what happens, I just write about it," he said.

Dean felt a twist of fear in his gut. He wanted to ask Chuck what he meant, but he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer. He satisfied himself with skimming through the pages of Sam's first day with Lucifer. He felt a wave of frustration when he read that Sam was worrying about him when Sam was the one being held captive. He ran a hand over the dressing on his chest. The cuts were tender but not really painful.

It didn't seem too bad until he reached the last couple of pages. Then he read aloud for Bobby and Castiel's benefit.

_"Lucifer roared and threw his arms up. Just as he did, Sam was thrown back by an invisible force. He hit the wall hard and it knocked the wind out of him. He gasped for breath. Lucifer turned and stared at him, his eyes dark. Sam clutched his side. He was pretty sure he'd broken a rib. He took a slow breath and felt it pull painfully. He winced despite himself."_

Dean took a deep breath and tried to calm himself before he spoke. "He breaks my brother's rib," he said in a low, dangerous voice.

Chuck nodded. "If you keep reading, you'll see that he heals him, too."

Dean threw the pages into the air and they fluttered gracefully to the floor. "He breaks my brother's rib!"

"Calm down, Dean," Bobby said firmly. "It's not Chuck's fault. Like he said, he doesn't control it, he just writes it."

Dean's breaths came heavy and tense. "I need to know before I read anymore, does it get worse?" He felt like a coward for asking, but he didn't think he would be able to keep reading if he knew his brother was being hurt. All his years in Hell had prepared him for dealing with torture but for not that of his brother.

Chuck shook his head vigorously. "No, it's okay. Lucifer will heal Sam and then they'll talk a little more before Sam falls asleep again."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Castiel said. "We must be thankful."

Thankful, Dean thought. His brother was being held hostage by the Devil and the only source of good news was that it was only a broken rib.

* * *

**Thanks to all of you that are reading, reviewing and adding this story to your alerts and follows. We appreciate it more than we can say. **

**Snarks and Clowns x **


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks go to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Aldrovanda for pre-reading, to SPN MUM for letting me know I was still missing things in the past/present tense changes, and to Gredelina1 for listening to me as I attempted to fix those mistakes — CoM x**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Sam sat beside Lucifer on the bench, looking out over the park. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The grass was green. There were kids playing with their families all around them. It was perfect. If there was ever something to show Lucifer, it was this.

"Look over there," Sam said, pointing to a mother and her three children. The two eldest were playing ball while the youngest toddled around her mother's legs. "How can you deny that's good?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes and leaned back, folding his hands in his lap. He looked over at Sam and smirked. "The mother is an alcoholic. I can smell it from here."

Sam frowned and looked back to the mother and her children. "That's not the point."

"Then what is? She drove here drunk, with her kids, with no regard for their safety. I wouldn't call that a stellar example of humanity."

Sam shook his head and looked around. He pointed to another child, who was kneeling beside his injured friend. "There, look at that boy, look at the way he is helping the other."

"You are seeing the fallout of an argument, Sam. The child that is being oh so helpful now was the one to injure his friend in the first place. He pushed him over because he wouldn't share a toy. He was _envious." _Lucifer lay heavy emphasis on the word. "You remember envy, don't you, Sam? It is one of those marvelous sins my father so deplores."

Sam raked a hand through his hair in frustration. The Devil seemed amused by this and he watched Sam carefully.

"All humans are dark at their core," Lucifer said. "My demons prove that. Do you know why I created them?"

Sam shrugged. "Because you were lonely?"

Lucifer threw back his head and laughed. "No, but one of your human psychiatrists would disagree. I created them to prove a point. My father asked me to bow before you humans, because you were such a magnificent race, with your emotions and wishes and desires. I took one of his creations and tore it down to its base instincts, and you know what I found? Demons."

"Lilith," Sam said in a bitter tone. "She was your first, wasn't she?"

Lucifer looked nostalgic. "My first and greatest. She was a work of art. She proved my point. When I tore away the cushioning of humanity, there was a dark creature underneath. You remember her, don't you, Sam?"

Sam scowled at the ground, barely suppressing a shudder. He remembered Lilith all too well. He remembered the people she killed and the things she did. He also remembered killing her and starting this whole mess in the first place. If he had not been so blinded by his vendetta, none of this would be happening now. He wouldn't be sitting in a park with the Devil trying to persuade him of the good of humanity.

"I paid for it, of course. My father sent my brother, my family after me. He sent Michael. He cast me into the cage for what my father deemed as my sins."

Sam looked over at Lucifer feeling a slight twinge of sympathy. As much as he didn't want to, he could relate to the Devil's plight. Sam's own father had primed Dean to kill him, but thankfully, Dean wasn't a coward. Dean fought back and rebelled. He could only imagine the pain Lucifer faced having his brother turn on him.

"I'm sorry," Sam said before he could stop himself. "I know how it feels to have your family turn on you."

"Ah, yes. Your father instructed your brother to kill you," Lucifer said. "I remember."

Sam started. "How do you know about that?"

"Sam." The Devil smiled indulgently. "When are you going to learn? You belong to me. I know everything about you."

"I don't belong to anyone," Sam snapped.

Suddenly, Lucifer stiffened and his gaze snapped to his right. "We should leave."

"What?" Sam was taken off guard by the tense set of Lucifer's features; he looked worried. Sam wondered what the Devil could possibly have to worry about.

Just then, Sam heard it, a muffled gagging sound and a woman's frantic pleas.

It was the woman Sam pointed out before, the one Lucifer said was an alcoholic. She was kneeling beside her daughter, patting her fruitlessly on the back.

"Cough it up, Sarah," she said frantically.

Sam was in motion before he realized what was happening. He dropped to his knees beside the child and smacked her hard on the back.

The candy the child was choking on flew out of her mouth and landed inconsequentially on the dirt. The child drew a shaky breath and promptly burst into tears.

The mother threw her arms around her daughter and peppered her face with kisses. "Oh, Sarah!"

Forgotten in the maelstrom of emotional outpouring, Sam climbed to his feet and turned back to where Lucifer was standing, staring at him, looking stunned. Shaking his head, Lucifer stepped toward Sam and reached out a hand to grip Sam's arm.

There was the disconcerting sensation of being in two places at once. Then Sam found himself standing on the threadbare carpet of their motel room.

"How did you do that?" Lucifer asked.

Sam frowned. "How did I stop a kid from choking to death? It's pretty basic first aid, Lucifer."

"No, I mean how did you manage to avert the child's path?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know what you mean."

Lucifer looked solemn. "That child was slated to die today, but you saved her. How did you do it?"

"I don't know, I just did."

Lucifer shook his head. "You are remarkable."

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "How did you know she was supposed to die?"

"I saw the reaper. That's why I tried to get you away."

Sam gaped at him. "Why would you that? You're an angel. You could have saved her."

"I think you are missing one salient point here, Sam. I am the Devil. I don't help humans. I help myself."

"You helped me," Sam said. "You healed me."

"Because you are special," Lucifer said. "You are mine. We're meant to be together."

"You say that like it's supposed to mean something," Sam said in a tired voice. "When all it really means was that I am supposed to be your meat suit for the apocalypse."

Lucifer sighed and looked out of the grubby window. "No, Sam. It means so much more than that."

Sam threw himself down on the bed and curled onto his side. "I am going to sleep now."

"It's only three," Lucifer said, sounding bewildered. "You cannot be tired already."

Sam huffed. "I can't go out. I can't call my brother. I can't do anything but talk to you. I choose sleep."

"Very well," Lucifer said. "You sleep."

* * *

Lucifer watched Sam as his breaths fell into the soft sighs of sleep and he frowned. He would have liked to experience sleep. It looked like such a peaceful state. He hadn't felt peace since before he was cast out of heaven. Everything since then had been hard and cold, and more recently, confusing.

Before Sam came along, life was simple. He was working towards a solid goal: creating a paradise on earth for him alone to enjoy. Humans would be subjugated and cast aside.

His first thought when he saw the reaper was to get Sam away before he had to witness the child's death. He never thought to intervene, it wasn't in his nature, but Sam had, and that was remarkable. Sam had saved the small child and averted her death.

Sam was a human, Lucifer's vessel, nothing more than that, yet he found himself caring and it unnerved him. Physical healing was one thing, he needed his vessel healthy, but trying to avoid the reaping, that was something different. He had done that to protect Sam from emotional harm.

There was a knock at the door and Lucifer turned on his heel, brow furrowed.

He walked over to the door and pulled it open. Meg, his lieutenant, was standing there greeting him with a smile. She was carrying a jug of demon blood in each hand. Lucifer stepped aside to let her pass. She walked over to the table and set the jugs down. Then she looked over at the bed and took a step back, quickly turning to face Lucifer.

"Is that Sam Winchester?" she asked boldly.

Lucifer scowled at her. "I don't believe that's any of your business."

Meg shut her mouth and looked away. "The blood is fresh," she said, motioning to where the jugs sat on the table.

Lucifer nodded and gestured toward the door. "That will be all, Meg."

Meg nodded, and with one last look at Sam, she left the room.

As Lucifer turned back to the bed, he saw Sam's eyes were open and he was looking directly at Lucifer. He looked furious.

"Is something wrong, Sam?" Lucifer asked.

"Meg," Sam spat, pushing himself up in the bed so he was leaning against the headboard.

"Ahh, yes, I imagine you are unhappy to see her again. How is Mr. Singer?"

Sam scowled. "He was just fine till your little friend racked up and stuck him in a wheelchair."

Lucifer tapped a finger against his chin. "I could heal him, you know. All it would take is a simple yes." There was no real expectation behind the words. He was merely playing his part.

Sam shook his head. "I know Bobby'd rather spend the rest of his life in that chair than have me say yes to you."

Lucifer shrugged. "So be it." He paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. "If it upsets you to see her, I will made sure she is replaced by another of my lieutenants."

Sam frowned. "Why do you care if I'm upset?"

The question stymies the Devil. He didn't know why he cared for Sam's feelings; he only knew that he did.

Sam looked around the room, and his eyes fell on the jugs of blood on the table. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked.

Lucifer looked at the table, and he felt a pang of some unknown emotion. He did not recognize it, as he had never felt guilt before.

"It is demon blood," he confirmed.

"I'm not drinking that!" Sam said angrily.

"No one has asked you to," Lucifer said serenely. "It is for me. Nick is not my true vessel, and there are things that must be done to prevent him deteriorating." He gestured to his clear visage. "You don't want to imagine what I would look like without it."

"You're going to drink that?" Sam asked, looking nervous.

Lucifer understood. For Sam to watch him drinking the blood that he had only now learned to resist, would be like a human junkie watching someone else shooting up. He couldn't bring himself to put Sam through that.

He picked up the jugs and made his way to the door. "I will retire to one of my lieutenant's rooms to do what must be done. I shall be back presently. Oh, Sam, someone will be watching."

He stepped out and closed the door behind him. He can hear Sam's sigh of relief through the door.

* * *

Sam stared at the closed door and wondered if Lucifer was done feeding yet. He wanted the blood gone. The thought of it being so close called to him like a siren song. He blamed it on the situation he found himself in, but in his heart, he knew he would struggle wherever he was. Once an addict, always an addict.

He forced thoughts of demon blood aside, and concentrated on his immediate predicament. He was trapped with Lucifer for the foreseeable future, possibly forever. He didn't doubt that Dean would try to save him, but he knew he would fail. Even with Castiel and Bobby's help, they were no match for the Devil.

The worst part of his captivity with the Devil, as far as Sam was concerned, was that he was separated from his brother. He couldn't talk to Dean or plan with him or, more importantly, fight alongside him. The war was continuing outside his motel room, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was worse than that though, not only was he benched, he was stuck with the creature leading it all, and there was nothing he could do.

Or maybe there was something.

Despite the fact he was a prisoner, he was in a position of power; he just didn't realize it before now. He was at Lucifer's right hand, beneath the dragon's wing. If he could just maneuver himself into a position of trust, he could learn it all: all Lucifer's plans, his goals and more importantly, how he was going to achieve them. Then, if he ever got away, he and Dean would be armed with all the information needed to defeat the Devil. Maybe even if he wasn't able to get away. If he could just get a hold of a weapon, a real weapon, he could do the job himself.

Sam's path was laid out before him, though he was loathe to accept it. Lucifer said that Sam was more than his vessel. Sam needed to find out what he meant by that and how he could use it against him. His first task had to be letting go of the resentment he felt towards Lucifer for essentially kidnapping him.

He needed to be his friend.

* * *

When Lucifer came back into the room, he was holding a paper sack with the name _Mindy's Diner_ on it. He held it out to Sam with an indulgent smile.

"Did you go buy this yourself?" Sam asked, thinking that the first step in this friendship thing had to be civil conversation.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "I am the Devil, Sam. I don't do food runs. I sent someone out to get it for you."

"It wasn't Meg was it?" Sam asked.

"Would it matter if it was?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't trust her not to spit in it."

Lucifer frowned. "It was a lesser demon by the name of Keith that fetched it for you. But even if it had been Meg, she would not have dared to spit in your food. She knows better than to incur my wrath like that."

Sam thought on that for a moment. Lucifer seemed genuinely offended at the idea and more than willing to vent his wrath on Meg. Sam filed that away for future reference. He owed Meg, and if he could steer Lucifer towards killing her, all's the better.

"Are you going to eat?" Lucifer asked.

Sam nodded and took the bag of food. He opened the Styrofoam package and found a salad with a separate container of dressing. It's exactly what he would have chosen for himself. He wondered how Lucifer knew so much about him, but he didn't ask. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

He forked up his food, watched the whole time by Lucifer. When he finished, Lucifer looked satisfied, as if Sam had passed some test.

"Do you need more?" Lucifer asked.

"No, that was fine," Sam said.

"You will have to prompt me for these things," Lucifer said. "I have watched humanity for millennia, but I admit I am not an expert." He smiled. "I am doing my best though."

Sam thought he sounded like the proud owner of a new puppy. He thought of making a comment about it, and then he remembered his newfound determination to be the Devil's friend. No more snarky comments for him.

Lucifer tapped his fingers on the table and looked thoughtful.

"Is something wrong?" Sam asked.

Lucifer rested his chin in his hand. "I don't know what to do with you now."

Sam raised an eyebrow, thinking back to the puppy thing again. "You don't need to _do_ anything with me, Lucifer."

"I want to be a good host," Lucifer said earnestly, as if he couldn't see the gaping contradiction in his words. He was not a host; he was a hostage taker.

"I can amuse myself," Sam said.

"Really? What do you do?" Lucifer sounded genuinely interested, as if Sam's pastimes are of vital importance to him.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. Everything he usually did to amuse himself was inextricably linked with Dean. _They _would go to a ball game, or _they _would go see a concert on the rare downtime between hunts. Not since Stanford had Sam had time that was completely his own to do what he wanted with, and now he had it, all he wanted to do was talk to his brother.

Sam sighed. "I guess I read or play cards. I don't know really. It's been a long time since I've had time to myself. There's hasn't been that much, you know?"

Lucifer's expression changed to something unreadable. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Sam shrugged. "It's all right."

"Do you want to play cards now?" Lucifer asked, tilting his head to the side.

Sam looked over at Lucifer, raising his brows. "You want to play cards with me?"

Lucifer frowned. "Why not?"

"You're the Devil." Sam laughed. "Won't you cheat?"

"I promise you, I won't cheat. It's the same as lying, and I said I wouldn't do that to you."

Sam nodded and then looked around. "We're going to need some cards."

Lucifer nodded and got to his feet. "I think there are some in the other room. I recall seeing a poker game a couple of nights ago."

"You're going to break into another room?" Sam asked, though why was surprised he didn't know. He was the Devil after all.

Lucifer sighed heavily. "Your low opinion of me hurts. The game I am referring to was taking place between my lieutenants."

"Demons play cards?"

"There are a lot of hours in the day to fill when you are evil," he said in a conversational tone. "It can't be all mutilating puppies and wreaking havoc in small towns. Sometimes they like to relax." He winked at Sam and left the room.

Unless Sam was very much mistaken, the Devil just made a joke. The thought made him huff out a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Lucifer came back with a pack of cards in hand and he tossed them to Sam. Sam shuffled the pack and dealt.

"Do you know how to play?" he asked.

Lucifer shook his head indulgently. "Sometimes your obtuseness amazes me, Sam," he said. "Do you really think I could have lived as long as I have without learning to play poker? Do you know how many souls have come my way through a game of cards? Addicts will do anything for a little luck, even made demon deals."

Sam raised his head from the cards. "People trade their souls for a good hand at poker?"

"Humans." Lucifer said it as if it explained everything, which to him, Sam guessed it did.

He set the stack back in the middle of the table. "We've got nothing to bet with."

Lucifer smiled and Sam felt a chill creep down his back. "We could bet a yes," he said.

Sam scowled. "That's not funny, Lucifer."

Lucifer looked unabashed. "It wasn't supposed to be."

Sam threw down his cards. "I am not risking the fate of humanity on a hand of cards." He pushed his chair away from the table and got to his feet. "You know, I'm not in the mood for cards anymore."

Lucifer looked genuinely disappointed. "Don't be like that, Sam."

"I'm not being like anything," Sam said. He had forgotten his mission to ingratiate himself with the Devil in his frustration. "I'm just not in the mood to pretend this is something other than what it is. I'm your hostage, nothing more."

Lucifer frowned and got to his feet. "Very well. I will leave you in peace." He crossed the room and clicked the door closed behind him.

Sam watched him go, and his mind reeled. He felt a pang of something he couldn't quite place. It was like remorse, but he couldn't possibly be feeling remorse for hurting the Devil's feelings.

Could he?

* * *

**Part of the editing process for this story is to change it from present tense to past. I am doing my best, but I am still missing things,. If you see something I've missed feel free to point it out in a review or a PM so I can fix it. **

**CoM x **


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks go to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, and Aldrovanda for pre-reading, and to Gredelina1 for all her help.**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

When Sam woke the next morning, he was alone. He rolled over and stretched, looking around. There was a paper sack from Mindy's Diner on the table, but other than that the room was unchanged from how he left it.

He got out of bed and crossed the room. Beside the sack of food there was a note.

_Sam, I will be otherwise occupied this morning. Please entertain yourself. I left you a pack of cards. L._

Sam puzzled over the note for a moment, trying to convince himself that it was real, that it was an actual missive from the Devil. It seemed too surreal to be true. Then the impact of the words hit him. Lucifer was gone. He was alone.

He was in motion before realized what he was doing. He dragged on his jeans and pulled a shirt on. Stuffing his feet into his unlaced boots, he crossed the room in three strides and pulled open the door.

He stepped outside into the parking lot, barely believing his luck. He expected to meet resistance, but there was none, except...

"Going somewhere," a familiar voice asked.

Sam turned on his heel and was met with the smug face of Meg. Her eyes were the onyx black that betrayed her true self.

"Just getting some air," he said lightly, inwardly cursing.

"Lucky for you, that is on your list of approved activities," Meg said. "But stealing cars and attempting to escape aren't."

Sam glared at her. "Who said I was escaping?"

Meg looked amused. "Nobody said you were. This is just a friendly reminder. You made a deal, with the Devil no less, that you would stay with him in return for your brother's protection. Dean is officially under Lucifer's protection at the moment. We're not allowed near him. Break that deal and it will be open season on the eldest Winchester."

Sam scowled and scuffed the parking lot with the toe of his boot. He was trapped and he knew it, but he would be damned if he was going to let Meg see it, too.

"Have you had enough air, or would you like to stay out here a little longer?" she asked with a truly demonic smile.

Sam looked across the parking lot to the street. There were people walking past, paying no attention to his exchange with the demon. He figured he should be grateful that they don't know, because if they did, they would surely be killed, but part of him wanted to shout to them for help. It was a small, cowardly part of him, and he found it easy to quash the urge.

"I think I'm done," he said, walking past her and going back into his room.

"Good," Meg said with satisfaction. "I wouldn't want to have to tell Lucifer you have been a bad pet."

"Pet?" Sam scoffed. "I don't think he'd like to hear you calling me that." Sam was satisfied to see her already pale skin lighten. "That's what I thought," he said.

"Go inside, Winchester," she said with bravado. "Your master will be back soon."

Sam actually laughed, a full, honest laugh. "My master? Lucifer may be a lot of things, but one thing he will never be is my master. Can you say the same?"

Meg stepped forward threateningly. "Keep sweet talking and I will finish the job I started on Singer. I hear he is in a wheelchair now. How's about we made it a coffin?"

Sam tried not to show the fear he felt. "You could, but that would upset Lucifer."

"You prepared to bet your friend's life on that?" she asked. "We can't touch your brother, but Lucifer said nothing about any of your other friends."

Sam wanted to attack her, but he knew it would do nothing but bloody his fists. The truth was that she had him on the ropes and she knew it. He needed Lucifer to come back so he could amend his deal. He needed to made sure Bobby was taken care of, too, and Castiel. He couldn't be with them but that didn't mean he couldn't protect them.

Powerless in his rage, Sam strode into his room and slammed the door in Meg's face. Once inside, he leaned back against the door and breathed a sigh of relief. He could hear Meg's laughter on the other side, and it burned at him.

He opened the package of food, more out of a desire for something to do than hunger, and sat at the table to eat his now cold pancakes. After a few bites, he pushed them away.

He rested his head in his hands and thought over his situation. He now had a pissed off demon gunning for Bobby. He hoped her fear of Lucifer and her apparent appointment as his guard would keep her from carrying out her threat, but he couldn't be sure. He told himself Bobby was wily and that Dean and Castiel were surely there with him by now, but that didn't assuage his fear. He wished Lucifer was back already, so that he could elicit the promise for Bobby's protection from him.

He spent the morning alternately pacing the small room and lying on the bed with an arm thrown over his face. He was overwhelmed with nervous energy one moment and then lethargy that made even breathing feel like a task too great to manage swept through him.

When the fallen angel returned, Sam was laying on the bed thinking of his brother and wondering what was happening to him. As the door swung open, he jerked upright.

"What's wrong?" Lucifer asked, concern creasing his brow.

"You're back!" Sam said before he could stop himself.

Lucifer smiled. It was a rare genuine smile, devoid of mocking. He seemed truly pleased by Sam's reaction. "I didn't think you would note my absence."

Sam shrugged. "There's something I need you to do for me."

"Anything," Lucifer said and then amended, "Well, almost anything."

"I need you to keep your demons away from Bobby and Castiel."

Lucifer nodded. "Of course. Are you concerned for their safety? I can send someone to check on them for you."

Sam laughed. "I don't see that ending well. Bobby will exorcise them before they've even crossed the yard."

Lucifer smiled indulgently. "That is a possibility, of course. I can't have that. I need all the soldiers I can get. Tell me, why are you suddenly concerned for your friends?"

"I had a chat with Meg earlier," Sam said.

Lucifer's expression darkened. "Has she been making a nuisance of herself?"

"No more than usual. Though if you decide to smite her, I will happily cheer you on. She threatened Bobby."

Lucifer scowled. "That was wrong of her. I apologize. I will ensure that my demons know Mr. Singer is off limits."

"And Cas," Sam said.

"And Castiel. I do not believe any of my demons can pose a threat to my brother, but I will made sure they know to give him a wide berth also. Is there anything else?"

Seeing that the Devil was in a giving mood, Sam made his next request. "Can I call Dean?"

Lucifer frowned. "I do not think that is a good idea. It will only made your separation harder to bear."

He seemed genuine in his words. If Sam didn't know better, he would have believed that the Devil was truly concerned for his welfare. But that was just impossible, wasn't it?

Sam sighed. "I just want to talk to him, Lucifer, let him know I'm okay."

Lucifer shook his head. "No, Sam. I don't think that is a good idea."

Sam threw up his hands. "What am I supposed to do? I can't call my brother. I can't go out alone. I am stuck in this motel surrounded by your demons."

Lucifer frowned and then brightened. "My business for the day is concluded. What would you like to do?"

"I want to call my brother," Sam said, feeling childish but not able to control it.

"Don't be difficult, Sam."

"What, are you going to break another rib?" Sam said, getting to his feet and facing off against the fallen angel. "Really, Lucifer, what else am I supposed to do? I can't see my brother. I can't even call him. I have nothing left; you might as well just kill me."

Lucifer sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Is that all you have in life, your brother? Who are you really, Sam, just Dean Winchester's brother?"

Sam opened his mouth to argue but the Devil's question brought him up short. He was more than just Dean's brother. He had to be.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Lucifer said, seeing Sam's stricken expression.

Sam waved away his words. He was busy thinking over what the Devil said. "I'm a hunter," he said eventually. "I am a brother and a hunter."

"And is that all you've ever wanted from life?" Lucifer asked.

"It's what matters," Sam said with finality, but Lucifer didn't leave it there.

"You are so much more than that, Sam. I wish you could see yourself as I see you."

Lucifer seemed genuine, and it took Sam aback. He didn't understand why Lucifer, with the world at his feet, was wasting his time inciting an existential crisis in Sam. It was not done with malice, Sam believed that, but what was it done for? Why did the Devil seem so concerned with what Sam thought of himself? Why would be possibly care?

* * *

They sat in relative silence for an hour. Sam was lost in thought and Lucifer seemed content to watch Sam.

When dinner time came around, Sam's stomach growled and Lucifer clapped his hands together. "Time to eat," he said. "What would you like?"

Sam looked up. "I don't mind. Whatever."

Lucifer frowned. "You can have anything you like."

Except the one thing he really needed—his brother. The statement went unsaid but they both heard it anyway.

"How about you go to fetch your own meal?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You're going to trust me to go out alone?"

Lucifer shrugged. "I do, but I was thinking I could come with you. Think of it as another experiment in your good of humanity lesson. Perhaps there will be cause for more heroism from you. I would like to see that."

Sam laughed. "It was hardly heroism, Lucifer. I stopped a kid from choking."

"Why are you so determined to miss the positive in yourself?" Lucifer asked, speaking more to himself than to Sam. "Anyway, are we going out to dine?"

Sam got up and grabbed his jacket. "Why not?"

"Why indeed?"

Sam expected to walk to the diner, but Lucifer apparently had no time to waste on walks in the evening air. One moment they were in the motel and the next they were in a street outside a diner.

Lucifer opened the door and gestured for Sam to go in ahead of him. Sam stepped inside and inhaled deeply. The air smelled of fresh coffee. It was ambrosia to him after the musty smell of the motel. Sam made his way over to a booth and sat down. Lucifer followed, also breathing deeply.

Sam quirked a brow at him. "What are you doing?" he asked when a few minutes had passed and Lucifer was still huffing like an asthmatic.

Lucifer looked abashed. "I am trying to understand the appeal the scent has for you. I can only smell burned coffee beans. There must be something more."

Sam smiled. "It's the burned beans that smell good. You may not notice it, but our motel room smells a bit ripe. Besides, coffee is one of the best smells there was. Sometimes we..."

"What?" Lucifer asked. "Sometimes you what?"

Sam found himself speaking without thought. "Sometimes Dean and I find a motel with kitchenettes. They're great because we can brew our own coffee. I wake up some mornings, and Dean has already got the coffee going. Those are the best mornings."

Sam looked up to see Lucifer smiling indulgently at him. He looked down at the tabletop. "It doesn't matter."

Lucifer looked at him intently. "It matters. You matter."

Sam opened his mouth, unsure of what he was going to say, but it didn't matter. The waitress chose that moment to arrive with her notepad in hand.

"What can I get you, fellas?" she asked.

Sam stifled a laugh. He wondered how she would react if she realized one of the 'fellas' she was smiling at so sweetly was the Devil.

Lucifer looked up at her and a smile curved his lips. "A coffee, please. And my friend will have..." He waved to Sam.

"The Caesar salad, please," Sam said. "And a coffee."

The waitress noted down his order and bustled back to the counter. Sam turned incredulous eyes to Lucifer.

"What was that?" he asked.

Lucifer looked confused. "What did I do? I was attempting to be polite. You humans and your rules... It's all so complicated."

"That's the thing," Sam said. "You were nice to her, a human, one of the people you seem to hate."

Lucifer shrugged. "I didn't want you to be embarrassed, so I played my part. I don't think she noticed anything amiss."

"You played the part of a human so you didn't embarrass me?"

Lucifer looked Sam in the eye and he seemed to be trying to impart something significant. "You matter to me, Sam." He saw that Sam was about to say something else, but he cut him off with a raised hand. "Not just because you are my vessel."

"Then what is it?" Sam asked. "I don't understand."

Lucifer looked a little sad. "I know you don't." He sighed out a breath and looked at his hands where they are clasped on the tabletop.

Though he didn't understand why, seeing Lucifer looking sad affected Sam, and he rallied for a change of topic. "What were you doing this morning?" he asked.

Lucifer raised his head and looked Sam in the eye. "I don't think you really want to know the answer to that," he said.

Sam shrugged. "If you don't want to tell me..."

"I was dealing with one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse," Lucifer said simply.

Sam was unable to react for a moment. It shouldn't have shocked him, it was the Devil after all, but the man he envisaged as Satan and the man he had spent the last few days with didn't mesh. Lucifer seemed reasonable and considerate when they were talking, but now Sam was reminded that this was the angel working towards the end of the world.

"Anyone I know?" he asked in a voice of forced casualness.

"Pestilence," Lucifer said. "It's a little ahead of schedule, but since you and your brother did away with War I needed someone to work with."

Sam shrugged. "He was killing people."

Lucifer smiled. "And I can easily imagine how that would upset you. Though it must be said, he wasn't killing people. He was just inciting the humans' natural compulsion to murder each other. He merely freed them of their inhibitions."

"They thought they were killing demons," Sam said. "They didn't realize they were just people."

"Isn't it the same thing in the end?" Lucifer asked. "Demons, people, they are all dark at heart."

And just like that, Sam realized he wasn't sitting and talking with Dean or Bobby, or even Castiel with his quirks. This was the Devil sitting opposite him, and he couldn't let himself forget that.

"So," Sam said casually, "what are your plans for Pestilence?"

Lucifer looked at him darkly. "Let's just say he is a piece in my game. A vital piece."

Sam nodded as if Lucifer's answer had satisfied him, when really it hadn't. As little as he wanted to hear about them, he needed to know Lucifer's plans if he was to have any chance at averting them.

The waitress came back to their table and set a plate of food in front of Sam. "Enjoy," she said brightly, and then she walked back to the counter.

Sam prodded his food with his fork. He had lost his appetite.

"Eat," Lucifer prompted. "You need to sustain yourself."

Sam rolled his eyes. "A healthy vessel is a happy vessel, right?" He pushed away his plate. "Sorry, but all the talk of Pestilence has spoiled my appetite."

Lucifer frowned. "I'm sorry if I upset you."

The strangest thing was that Sam believed he was truly sorry, and he found himself wanting to reassure Lucifer. He slid his plate back over the table and picked up his fork again.

A small smile quirked Lucifer's lips as he watched. He looked satisfied.

The food sat heavy in Sam's stomach as he thought of Pestilence and War and the impending apocalypse. The apocalypse he had a front row seat to but he can do nothing to avert.

* * *

**Part of the editing process for this story is to change it from present tense to past. I am doing my best, but I am still missing things,. If you see something I've missed feel free to point it out in a review or a PM so I can fix it. **

**CoM x **


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, Kazluvsbooks, and Aldrovanda for pre-reading and to Gredelina1 for all her help.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Dean woke early the next morning, and despite the risk of being smote by a pissy archangel, he woke Chuck by hammering on his bedroom door.

Chuck threw the door open and glared balefully at Dean. "You know, to see things I have to actually be able to sleep," he said.

"You didn't sleep?"

Chuck stretched and yawned. "No, I slept. I'm just pointing out a fact."

Dean pulled on his arm. "You can have a nap after you're done writing."

Chuck allowed himself to be tugged down the stairs and into the study. Bobby was at his desk with a thick tome open in front of him, but Castiel was nowhere in sight.

"No Cas?" Dean asked Bobby.

Bobby looked up from the book he was reading. "He said he'd be back for the pages, but there was something he had to do."

Dean shrugged and made his way into the kitchen to pour himself a coffee. Thinking it might speed up the writing process, he poured Chuck a mug, too.

Chuck settled himself down at the typewriter and massaged his temples.

"Something wrong, Chuck?" Dean asked, handing him his coffee.

"I'm not used to working with pressure like this," Chuck said.

Dean didn't know what to say to that. He was aware that they were piling the pressure on Chuck, but he was their only lifeline to Sam. Without him, they were at a loss to know what was happening.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Is there anything we can do?"

Chuck shook his head and then he brightened. "You could get me a computer to work with. Not that the typewriter isn't great"—he cast Bobby a smile—"but I am used to working with technology, not to mention a spell check."

Dean frowned. "We're not looking for the next great masterpiece, Chuck. We just need to know what's happening with Sam."

Chuck nodded. "I know, I know." He cracked his knuckles and started to type. He worked for over an hour before handing Dean a sheaf of papers to read.

"Is that it?" Dean asked.

"It's what I have so far," Chuck said. "I figure I better give you something to read before you pace a hole in Bobby's floor."

Dean accepted the sheaf of papers and skimmed through the words, then he broke off and looked at Chuck. "Are you serious?"

Chuck raised his hands in front of him. "I don't control them, Dean. I just write what they're doing."

"What is it?" Bobby asked.

"They're going to the frickin' park!" Dean said incredulously. "Sam has taken the Devil to a park."

"What the hell are they doing in a park?" Bobby asked.

"Sam's trying to show Lucifer the good of humanity," Chuck intervened.

"And he's doing that in a park!" Bobby raked a hand through his beard. "I guess it makes sense. Is it going to work?"

Dean snorted. "Of course it's not going to work, Bobby. This is Satan we're talking about."

"Keep reading," Chuck instructed.

Dean read aloud. _"'Look over there,' Sam said, pointing to a mother and her three children. The two oldest were playing ball while the youngest toddled around her mother's legs. 'How can you deny that's good?'" _Dean sighed heavily. "Is he out of his mind? It's Satan for crap's sake!"

Bobby shook his head. "It seems like a damn fool thing to be doing, but what else can he do?"

"But he's acting like it's normal," Dean said. "Like it's normal for him to be sitting in a park with Lucifer. He doesn't see how crazy this is. Lucifer is getting under his skin already. How is going to be able to resist him when he's already slipping."

Chuck cleared his throat. "Keep reading, Dean."

Dean read the conversation between Sam and Lucifer, and he rolled his eyes as Lucifer refuted all of Sam's examples of good with his own twisted logic. Really, what did Sam expect?

His brow furrowed as he read on. He gripped the pages tightly as he came to the section on Lilith. Like Sam, he remembered Lilith all too well. It pained him to see that Sam still carried the guilt for what he had done. It wasn't Sam's fault, not really. Who would have thought killing Lilith would be a bad thing?

"'_I paid for it, of course, my father sent my brother, my family after me. He sent Michael. He cast me into the cage for what my father deemed as sins.' Sam looked over at Lucifer, feeling a slight twinge of sympathy." _Dean groaned. "Sympathy? Really, Chuck?"

"Calm down, boy," Bobby said. "It's not Chuck's fault."

"I'm sorry if I'm not handling my brother having sympathy for the Devil well."

"You should probably have a drink then before you keep reading," Chuck said, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Dean's brows knitted together. "It gets worse?"

Chuck shrugged. "Depends on your definition of worse."

Dean rolled his eyes and looked back at the papers.

_"As much as he didn't want to, he could relate to the Devil's plight. Sam's own father had primed Dean to kill him, but thankfully, Dean wasn't a coward. Dean fought back and rebelled. He could only imagine the pain Lucifer faced having his brother turn on him. 'I'm sorry,' Sam said before he can stop himself. 'I know how it feels to have your family turn on you.'"_ Dean's hands fisted and crinkled the papers. "Jesus, Sammy. It wasn't like that. He didn't _want_ me to kill you."

Bobby looked at him sympathetically. "I think he knows that, son, but you have to admit it was a pretty shady move on your dad's part. What he did wasn't fair on either of you."

"My father was only doing what he had to," Dean said.

"I know that," Bobby said. "Maybe it's Sam that you need to talk this over with."

"I would, but in case you've forgotten, Lucifer is holding him hostage."

Bobby gripped the arms of his wheelchair. "Don't go thinking you're the only one here that cares about Sam. I know you've got a lot going on, but this affects all of us."

Dean looked apologetic. "I know, Bobby. It's just..." He raked a hand through his hair. "I'm stuck here reading about my brother and Lucifer, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I feel useless."

"We all do, but at least we know what's happening with him. If it wasn't for Chuck, we'd be completely in the dark."

Dean nodded and turned to Chuck. "I'm sorry, man. I know I'm being a dick, but it's..."

"It's your brother," Chuck said. "If anyone understands that, I do."

Chuck did understand. He had been living the Sam/Dean adventure story through his dreams for going on five years now, and Dean knew if there was anyone that got it, then it was Chuck.

Before Dean could read anymore, there was a rustling sound, and Castiel appeared, laden with what looked like a computer and printer. He set them down on the desk and Chuck jumped to his feet.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Castiel smiled. "I thought you would be more comfortable working with your own equipment if this arrangement is to continue."

Chuck beamed at him. "You thought right. Thanks, Cas."

Castiel looked pleased with Chuck's reaction. "Ah, you are already reading. Has anything of significance happened?"

Dean shrugged. "Other than Sam buddying up with the Devil, not much."

Castiel frowned. "What do you mean?"

Dean held out the read pages to Castiel, and the angel read through them quickly. "Oh," he said as he came to the last page.

"Yeah, oh," Dean said.

"I do not think you need be concerned by this," Castiel said. "Lucifer is a master at manipulation, after all. Sam is merely reacting to that side of him. It doesn't mean Sam is necessarily softening towards him."

"How's about you keep reading," Bobby said.

There were still pages left in Dean's hand that he hadn't read, and after what he had seen up to then, he wasn't sure he wanted to read them. He looked to Chuck who nodded. "The rest isn't too bad. I promise."

Dean nodded and then began to read again. He was pleased when Sam told Lucifer he didn't belong to anyone, least of all the Devil, and then his heart rate increased as he read Lucifer tensing.

"I thought you said it wasn't going to get worse?"

"Just read it, Dean," Chuck said.

Dean sighed and did as he was bidden. _"Sam was taken off guard by the tense set of Lucifer's features. He looked worried. Sam wondered what the Devil could possibly have to worry about. Just then, Sam heard it, a muffled gagging sound and a woman's frantic pleas. It was the woman Sam pointed out before, the one Lucifer said was an alcoholic. She was kneeling beside her daughter, patting her fruitlessly on the back."_

"What's happening?" Castiel asked,

Dean skimmed through the page. "There's a girl. She's choking." He continued to read and he saw that his brother was able to save the girl. He felt a surge of pride as he read, which changed to concern again as he read the Devil's reaction and explanation of what happened.

"There was a reaper?" Dean looked to Chuck for confirmation.

Chuck nodded. "And Sam averted the death. I don't know how or why it happened, but it certainly surprised Lucifer."

"Would someone care to explain just what the hell is going on?" Bobby said angrily.

"There was a kid choking," Dean said. "The reaper was there, ready to do its job, but Sam got in the way. He saved the kid."

"How is that even possible?" Bobby asked.

"It's not," Castiel said, confusion knitting his brows together. "Once a reaper has been assigned a person's soul to collect, there is no going back."

"Well, apparently there is," Dean said. "'Cause Sam just did it."

Castiel shook his head. "I tell you, it's not possible."

Dean shrugged and read on. "Lucifer seems to be having the same reaction. He thinks Sam's 'remarkable'."

Castiel looked dissatisfied. "This is the problem with being banished from Heaven. I need guidance." He ran a hand through his hair in a rare show of frustration. "How am I to help if I don't understand what's happening?"

"Whoa. Calm down, Cas," Dean said. "Whatever you're thinking, it can't be that bad."

Castiel looked at Dean, and Dean recognized the expression. It's the 'I am an almighty being and you cannot possibly understand, mere mortal' expression that Uriel favored.

Bobby clapped his hands together. "How about we all calm down and finish the pages? Then we can all get to work on researching reapers and see if there's some explanation for what Sam did or is going to do." He scratched his beard."It's all a bit hard to wrap your mind around."

"It's what Sam _will _do," Chuck said. "I see the day ahead for Dean and Sam. Though now they are separated, I am seeing more of Sam's path than Dean's. I suppose the powers-that-be think that's more significant at the moment."

"That's 'cause it is," Dean said doggedly.

"In that case, keep reading," Bobby said, and Dean returned his attention to the papers in front of him.

He read with a bemused eye as Lucifer stated that Sam was special, as if that was supposed to mean something. He was pleased to see that Sam shared his skepticism. When Sam went to sleep, the pages ended and Dean looked to Chuck for an explanation. "What happens next?"

Chuck looked uncomfortable. "I haven't written it out yet. How about we have some breakfast and then I can came back with a refreshed eye and..." He trailed off under Dean's glare.

"What's happening, Chuck?" Dean asked in a determined voice.

Chuck mumbled and Dean leaned in close to hear.

"What was that?"

Chuck sighed. "Demon blood."

The effect of those simple words had a marked reaction on Dean and Bobby. They both gasped while Castiel nodded understandingly.

"I was expecting that," Castiel said.

"You were _expecting it_?" Dean asked in a poor imitation of Castiel's deep tones. "And you didn't think to warn us?"

Dean threw the papers away in his rage and his hands came up to fist in his hair. "What the hell, Cas?"

"It's not for Sam," Chuck said. "It's for Lucifer. Sam won't drink a single drop of it. A demon will bring it to Lucifer and Sam will see it. That's all."

Dean felt some relief at Chuck's words but not enough to assuage the anger building in him. He thought having Sam with Lucifer was bad enough, but this added a whole new level to the images racing through his mind. Sam would go through literal hell having the blood that close to him.

"Why does Lucifer need demon blood?" Bobby asked.

"It's for the vessel," Castiel said. "As we know, Nick is not Lucifer's true vessel. He is merely a substitute. To contain Lucifer, the vessel must drink large amounts of demon blood to sustain it. Without it, Lucifer's presence would cause the vessel to spontaneously combust." Dean looked disgusted and Castiel nodded. "Yes, it would be most unpleasant."

Bobby looked thoughtful. "So, this Nick, the vessel, he is Lucifer's weakness."

"If it comforts you to think so, then yes," Castiel said. "But there is no way to capitalize on that unless you can deny him the blood. That is, of course, impossible."

The small bubble of hope that lightened Dean's chest at Bobby's question disappeared. For one gleaming second he had believed they actually had a weapon to use against Lucifer, but unless they could find and kill every demon in the world, they were out of luck.

"What else is going to happen?" Dean asked Chuck.

"They are going to talk a little more and then Sam has something of a revelation."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "A revelation?"

Chuck nodded. "If you could help me set up the computer, I can write it out for you. I think that would be better than me trying to explain."

An hour later, Chuck hit the print button and the pages came streaming out of the printer. Dean grabbed at them and read quickly. He was sad when he read that Sam had no faith that Dean would be able to rescue him, he was damned well going to try, then he came to the next section and his fists raised into the air triumphantly. "Go, Sammy! I knew you were more than a pretty face."

Chuck nodded happily, knowing what Dean just read, but Castiel and Bobby were clueless.

"What's going on?" Bobby asked.

In response, Dean read the section aloud. _"Despite the fact he was a prisoner, he was in a position of power, he just didn't realize it before then. He was at Lucifer's right hand, beneath the dragon's wing. If he could just maneuver himself into a position of trust, he could learn it all: all Lucifer's plans, his goals and more importantly, how he was going to achieve them. Then, if he ever got away, he and Dean would be armed with all the information needed to defeat the Devil. Maybe even if he wasn't able to get away. If he could just get a hold of a weapon, a real weapon, he could do the job himself."_

Bobby beamed. "That crafty son of a gun."

"It gets better," Dean said and continued to read. _"Sam's path was laid out before him, though he was loathe to accept it. Lucifer said that Sam was more than his vessel. Sam needed to find out what he meant by that and how he could use it against him. His first task had to be letting go of the resentment he felt towards Lucifer for essentially kidnapping him. He had to be his friend."_

"I'll be damned," Bobby said. " Sam just became our best weapon against Lucifer."

Dean nodded enthusiastically and raised his coffee mug. "Here's to my brother, the mastermind."

* * *

The next morning, Chuck was already working at the computer when Dean came into the study. Bobby was pouring coffee and Castiel was standing beside the desk, watching Chuck as he worked.

"He woke me up with at the ass crack of dawn with his typing," Bobby said grouchily.

"What's the deal, Chuck?" Dean asked.

"I woke early," he said. "And I figured you'd want to know what was happening." Chuck pressed one last key and the pages came streaming out of the printer.

"So it's a big day?" Bobby clarified.

Chuck nodded. "It's an interesting day."

Dean snatches up the first page from the printer tray and read. _"When Sam woke the next morning, he was alone. He rolled over and stretched, looking around the empty room. There was a paper sack from Mindy's Diner on the table. He got out of bed and crossed to the table. Beside the sack of food, there was a note. _**_Sam, I will be otherwise occupied this morning. Please entertain yourself. I left you a pack of cards. L._**_"_ Dean read the last line twice and then looked up at Chuck. "I know you writer guys have artistic license and all, but the note is a bit much, Chuck."

Chuck raised his hands in front of him. "No license involved. That's what really happens. If you keep reading, you'll see Sam has the same reaction."

Dean skimmed down the page until he came to the section of Sam's attempted escape. _"He was in motion before realized what he was doing. He dragged on his jeans and pulled a shirt on. Stuffing his feet into his unlaced boots, he crossed the room in three strides and pulled open the door. He stepped outside into the parking lot, barely believing his luck. He expected to meet resistance, but there was none, except..." _Dean cursed loudly. "Meg." He said her name as an expletive.

Bobby's hands tightened into fists. "What's that demon bitch done now?"

In answer, Dean read on. "_'Going somewhere, Sam?' a familiar voice asked. Sam turned on his heel and was met with the smug face of Meg. Her eyes were the onyx black that betrayed her true self. 'Just getting some air,' he said lightly, inwardly cursing."_ Dean scowled at the pages. "Sammy was all set to made his escape but demon bitch caught him."

Castiel frowned. "I do not understand. How is Sam to gain information to aid us in the fight if he escapes?"

"He doesn't," Dean said shortly. "Which means he is still being smart. He's at least trying to get away." Dean was relieved that Sam was thinking of escape even though it didn't work. He was worried Sam's martyr complex would have had him staying with the Devil regardless.

Bobby nodded approvingly. "Keep reading, Dean."

Dean read on. He was amused at the way Sam handled Meg, and when Sam laughed, he laughed, too. His amusement cut off abruptly as Meg threatened Bobby. He felt the same fear as Sam apparently felt.

"It's okay," Bobby said stoically. "If that bitch comes, I'll be ready for her."

Dean nodded. "_We'll _be ready, Bobby. You're not fighting that one alone."

Bobby scowled. "I can handle one demon on my own, wheelchair be damned."

Dean grinned. "I know that. What I meant is that I don't want you having all the fun."

"Sam has faith in you, too," Chuck said. "He calls you wily."

Bobby snorted. "That's a new one on me."

Dean worried when he read of how Sam spent his morning. It sounded like Sam's captivity was getting to him, and that was the last thing he could afford. He needed to be strong. Dean was just as relieved as Sam when Lucifer returned, as it pulled his brother out of his funk.

As he read on, he got to a section that stopped him. Sam had asked Lucifer for their protection, and Lucifer had granted it.

"Get this," Dean said. "According to this, Lucifer made a deal with Sam. No demons can touch us, you included, Cas."

"No demon could touch me before," Castiel said looking amused. "But I am grateful to your brother nonetheless." He looked thoughtful. "This poses an interesting question. How many demons are affiliated with Lucifer now?"

"I'm guessing all of them," Dean said. "Lucifer is the big daddy demon guy, after all."

"And if that is the case, we can theoretically attack any demon we please and they are powerless to resist us," Castiel said with satisfaction.

A slow smile crept over Dean's face as the sudden rush of power and understanding swept through him. "We could take out anyone we wanted. Hell, we could even go after Meg."

"That would be inadvisable," Castiel said. "She seems to be Lucifer's right hand at the moment. Going after her would be a difficult task. Almost as difficult as extracting Sam from Lucifer's grasp."

Dean doesn't need the reminder of how he was useless when it really counted. Sam was stuck there because Dean wasn't strong enough to go in and save him.

"Keep reading," Bobby prompted, clearly noting Dean's depression.

Dean clears his throat. _"Seeing that the Devil was in a giving mood, Sam made his next request. 'Can I call Dean?' Lucifer frowned. 'I do not think that is a good idea. It will only made your separation harder to bear.' He seemed genuine in his words. If Sam didn't know better, he would believe that the Devil was truly concerned for his welfare. But that was just impossible, wasn't it?"_

"Dammit, Sammy!" Dean cursed. "Of course it's impossible. He is the _Devil!"_ He laid heavy emphasis on the word. "He's not interested in anyone but himself."

"I don't know," Chuck said softly. "I can't _feel_ Lucifer the way I can you and Sam, I just watch him interact with Sam, but I think he genuinely cares. He certainly acts like he does."

"That's the point, Chuck," Dean said. "He _acts_ like he cares. If he really cared, he'd let Sam call me."

Dean wanted that phone call. He wanted it so bad it was like a craving. Seeing what was happening through Chuck was better than nothing, but it was not the same as being able to talk to his brother.

"I agree with Dean," Castiel said. "Lucifer is cunning. He can present any personality to Sam that he desires if it will help him achieve his ends."

"See?" Dean looked at Chuck. "He's the Devil. He can't be trusted."

"If you believe that, you really won't like what's coming next."

Dean read, feeling a surge of both pride and fear as Sam essentially faced off against the Devil, but he paused and drew a breath when he came to Lucifer's question. _"Lucifer sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. 'Is that all you have in life, your brother? Who are you really, Sam, just Dean Winchester's brother?' Sam opened his mouth to argue, but the Devil's question brought him up short. He was more than just Dean's brother, he had to be."_ Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "Of course you're more than that, Sam. It's just him getting inside your head and screwing with you."

Chuck coughed. "Keep reading."

_"'I didn't mean to upset you,' Lucifer said, seeing Sam's stricken expression. Sam waved away his words. He was busy thinking over what the Devil said. 'I'm a hunter,' he said eventually. 'I am a brother and a hunter.'"_

Dean knew that his brother was so much more than that, and if he was there, he would pound it into him until he got the message. He tossed the papers down on the desk. "What the hell, Chuck? Is this what Sam's really feeling or just what you think he's feeling?"

"I write what I see and feel," Chuck said. "I can't explain the process to you."

"Try!" Dean commanded.

"He cannot," Castiel said. "There is a supreme connection between a prophet and subject. It would be like trying to explain your bond with your brother. There are some things that are beyond words."

Chuck shrugged and looked down at the floor. "There's more you need to read."

"Great," Dean said. "Just great. Like it can get any better. What's next? Do they have a cuddle?"

Chuck looked up at Dean. "It's about one of the horsemen."

Castiel stiffened and Dean's brow furrowed. He read through, skimming over the pages, searching for a mention of the horsemen.

_"'So,' Sam said casually, 'what are your plans for Pestilence?' Lucifer looked at him darkly. 'Let's just say he is a piece in my game. A vital piece.' Sam nodded as if Lucifer's answer satisfied him, when really it hadn't. As little as he wanted to hear it, he needed to know Lucifer's plans if he was to have any chance at averting them." _Dean smiled. "That's my boy, Sammy," he said. "You're already helping more than you know."

_"He wished Dean was there with him. Dean would know the right questions to ask and the right things to say to made the Devil open up to him. All he had was his half-baked plan to be the Devil's friend, and he was starting to wonder if that was just even an act anymore."_

Dean shook his head. "No way, Chuck! I refuse to believe this shit. Sam's not softening to the devil. He is not. I know him. It's an act, nothing more."

"I wish I could tell you otherwise Dean, but I can't. There's something happening between them, something big. I can feel it. I just don't know what it is yet."


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to SandraEngstrom2, AjPeanuts, Kazluvsbooks, and Aldrovanda for pre-reading and to Gredelina1 for all her help.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Sam was lying on the bed, staring up at a water stain on the grimy ceiling, when Lucifer returned. He had been away all day, doing whatever it was that he did in his mission to end the world, and Sam had been bored. He told himself he hadn't missed the Devil's presence, that would be insane, but he was lying to himself. The truth was, Sam was starved for any company. He was used to spending his life in another person's—Dean's—space, and being alone for hours at a time was an adjustment.

Lucifer came into the room and looked down at Sam. He followed Sam's gaze to the ceiling and his brows knitted together in confusion.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Nothing," Sam said laconically. "There is nothing I can do, remember?"

"Don't be difficult, Sam. I come bearing news."

Sam sat up. "What's happened?" His mind raced with possibilities. It was Lucifer, after all. It was unlikely to be good news.

Lucifer sat on the edge of Sam's bed and folded his hands in his lap. "I've noticed you have been, shall we say, depressed. I believe your surroundings are a part of that, so I have come to remedy it. We will be relocating."

"Where to?" Sam asked.

"One of my demons has found us a hotel outside the city. I'm told it has television in the rooms." He announced that with the air of a game show host bringing out the grand prize.

"It has television," Sam said blandly.

"Yes." Lucifer nodded happily. "Now, gather your things. We need to be leaving."

Sam pushed himself from the bed lazily and set about collecting his things and stuffing them into the duffel. When he was done, he looked expectantly at Lucifer.

Lucifer cast his eyes around the room once and nodded. Sam felt the threadbare carpet under his feet for another second, and then he was blinking and looking around a completely different room.

The room was nice, far nicer than anything he and Dean had ever sprung for. It was lacking the musty scent of his usual motels, and as he looked up, he saw the ceiling was a clear white, devoid of water stains.

"So much for checking in," he said, and then he tensed. "Lucifer, did you kill the owner so I could have a better room?"

Lucifer laughed. "No, Sam. I merely had him possessed. It's much easier this way. The only rooms that are in use are occupied by my demons. We don't have to worry about humans becoming curious."

Sam looked perplexed. "What do you care if humans get suspicious?"

Lucifer examined his fingernails. "I don't particularly. I just kill them if they start asking questions. I thought it would assuage your own mortal conscience to know there will be a few less deaths on our account though."

Sam didn't think much of Lucifer having the hotelier possessed, but he figured possession was better than death.

"They even have room service here," Lucifer said. "So we will not need to go out to purchase diner food for you."

Sam was a little disappointed. He had liked getting out into the town to eat. It made him feel less like a hostage. He looked around the room; it was tastefully decorated and clean, and to anyone else would probably be an aspiration destination, but to him it was a gilded cage.

"Are you going to unpack?" Lucifer asked. He was acting as if this was a shared vacation. In fact, he seemed genuinely excited about the new room, and Sam felt like a killjoy for not getting enthused, too.

Trying to find something positive in the room to comment on—he didn't understand why he was bothering—Sam glanced around.

"There's Wi-Fi," he said, seeing a card on the coffee table. "That's good."

Confusion creased the Devil's brow. "What's Wi-Fi?"

"It means I can get the internet here," Sam said. "If I was allowed near my laptop, of course."

Lucifer tapped his chin. "Your laptop. Hmmm. If you gave me your word you will not use it to communicate with your brother or any of your other friends, you could have it."

Sam's head snapped up. "Really?"

Lucifer smiled indulgently. "Really."

If Sam had his laptop, he could keep up to date with the outside world. He could follow the news and therefore see where and perhaps what Lucifer was doing in those times he left Sam alone. It would help him to stay grounded, too, making him feel less isolated. "I won't use it to contact anyone," he vowed. "I just want to keep up to date on the news."

Sam rooted through his bag and pulled out his laptop. He set it on the desk by the window and sat down. Going through the motions of booting it up and connecting to the internet was all familiar and reassuring. His first port of call was Google News. Lucifer stood behind him and watched as he tapped at the keys. It was unnerving, but at least he was not stopping him.

The first news story he found was an article on the rapid spread of the swine flu virus. He skimmed through the article, not seeing anything unusual until he came to a list of states that had been most affected. Michigan was one of them.

"Pestilence," he said in a sigh.

Lucifer read the page over his shoulder. "My, my, he has been a busy boy. I didn't know about half of these places."

"So, that's your plan," Sam said bitterly. "You're going to take us all out with swine flu."

Lucifer came to sit on the edge of the desk, looking Sam in the eye.

"Would it please you if I said no?" he asked.

"Not if you were lying," Sam said.

"I have told you already, Sam, I will not lie to you. Swine flu is not my ultimate plan to end humanity; it's a part of that plan though."

Sam lowered his eyes. "Why do you have to end it at all?" he asked in a plaintive voice. "I get that you don't think much of humans, Lucifer, but can't you find a way to... I don't know… coexist?"

Lucifer seemed genuinely stymied by the question. It was as if the thought had never crossed his mind. He was silent for a full minute. Sam had almost decided that he wasn't going to answer when he spoke. "I _could_ learn to coexist, I suppose. But why would I want to? It's not as if humans have ever managed to find a way to coexist with each other, and you're all the same race. Look at the troubles in the Middle East. I take my example from the humans, Sam. I take what I want."

Sam shook his head and snapped the laptop closed. "I'm going to order some food."

* * *

Lucifer clicked open the door and stepped in quietly. He didn't want to risk waking Sam. It was late, and the room was cast into shadowy darkness, but he could see clearly. Sam was lying across the bed with his legs tangled in the blankets. Unlike the other nights Lucifer had watched Sam sleeping, this time he didn't look peaceful.

Sam's brow had a sheen of sweat on it and his cheeks were flushed. Lucifer wondered if he was unwell. It was no matter if he was, he could heal him easily enough, but it warranted further study.

He stepped closer to the bed, just as Sam cried out.

"Dean! No! Dean!"

As Lucifer watched, a tear slipped from Sam's eye and trickled down onto the pillow.

Lucifer was puzzled. What could be causing Sam to cry? He didn't like it. It upset him, which in itself was a curious thing.

"Please, no," Sam murmured.

Understanding dawned and with it came a strange feeling of regret. Sam was having a nightmare. Lucifer remembered watching Nick struggle with his nightmares before he had allowed himself to be taken over. It hadn't distressed him then; in fact, it had amused him slightly, but now amusement was the furthest thought from his mind.

He stepped forward hesitantly and reached out a hand to shake Sam's shoulder, and then he faltered. Sam possibly wouldn't like to be touched.

"Sam!" he said firmly. "Wake up. You are having a nightmare."

"Dean," Sam moaned. "Oh, God please. Dean!"

Lucifer wondered at that. Sam was pleading with his father for mercy. Lucifer knew there was no mercy to be had there. He had expected mercy, too, but instead, he had been cast into the cage. He was surprised that Sam, knowing and seeing all he had, would still resort to prayer. It was something he would like to discuss with Sam if they ever reached a point where conversation was possible. It seemed that no matter what Lucifer said or did, it displeased Sam in some way.

Sam made a noise like a wounded animal. Lucifer recognized the sound, as he heard it countless times in Hell. It was the sound of a soul in unbearable pain.

Regardless of Sam's possible wishes, he stepped closer and shook Sam's shoulder. "Wake up, Sam!"

Sam's eyes snapped open and he jerked to a sitting position, throwing off Lucifer's hand in the process. Sam looked around the room as if expecting assailants to attack him.

"You're safe, Sam," Lucifer said, perching on the edge of the bed.

Sam's eyes fell on Lucifer and he exhaled in a gust. "Nightmare," he said, speaking quietly as if to himself. "It was just a nightmare."

"What did you dream?" Lucifer asked. There was no malice behind the question. He was honestly curious about Sam's dream. He didn't understand that Sam might not want to talk about it.

Sam looked down at the sheets covering his legs. "It doesn't matter."

"It clearly matters to you," Lucifer said. "You were very distressed."

Sam sighed and raked a hand through his already tousled hair. "It was the night Dean died," he said in a small voice. "I was watching it all happen again."

Lucifer fumbled for something to say. "That must have been quite distressing for you."

"Understatement of the century," Sam said.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sam rubbed at his eyes. "It's always the same," he said, not looking at Lucifer. It was as if he wasn't even aware Lucifer was there; he was talking to himself. "I have to watch, pinned in place, as the hellhound tears Dean apart. Then it's gone, and I am left holding my brother's body. He is still, unnaturally still, but I swear I can still feel him there with me. I know he's gone, that he's dead, but my mind can't take it in. I'm scared... scared of what happens next."

"What does happen next?" Lucifer asked quietly.

Again, it was as if Sam was talking to himself as he answered. "Bobby comes. He makes me let go of Dean. He tells me we have to salt and burn him, but I can't. I can't watch my brother go up in flames like that. He is going to need his body when I get him back."

He took a deep breath and Lucifer knew from the faraway look in his eyes that Sam was no longer in the room with him. He had been transported back in his memories.

"Bobby knows a place in Pontiac. There's a forest there: Harmonie State Park. He says if we have to bury him, that's the place. I'm past caring about the little details. All that matters is getting Dean somewhere safe so I can do what has to be done." He fisted his hands in his lap. "I dig the grave. I don't want Bobby's help. I have to do it myself." He trailed off and looked at Lucifer. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this."

Lucifer considered for a moment before answering. "Perhaps because you need to tell someone. Have you ever discussed this with Dean?"

Sam huffed a laugh. "No, never. You don't tell someone what it was like to bury them."

"And what was it like?"

"It was physically painful to do," Sam said. "It was like I was dying every step of the way. All I could think about was getting him somewhere safe so I could get to work on bringing him back. When it was… done, I took Bobby back to his car. Then I drove away. The first place I came to was a liquor store. I brought all the booze I could afford and then started searching the maps for crossroads. I lost count of how many demons I spoke to. Nothing I said or did made any difference. I begged and pleaded and threatened, but they wouldn't help me. They wouldn't even exchange our places."

"Would you have really done that?" Lucifer asked, genuinely curious. "Gone to hell in your brother's place?"

Sam looked at him as if he was speaking in tongues. "Of course I would. He did it for me."

Lucifer saw the honesty in Sam's eyes and knew he was telling him the truth. Sam would willingly have gone into Hell to save his brother. He wondered how it felt to be loved so completely. He had thought he was loved, by his brothers and his father, but he was wrong.

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, and Lucifer looked across at him. "Is there something you want to say, Sam?" he asked.

"What's it like there?"

"Hell?"

Sam nodded. "Dean won't... can't talk about it."

Lucifer laid his palms on his knees. "It was different for me. Hell was my kingdom."

"But you were in a cage," Sam said.

"A cage from which I ruled," Lucifer said, casting his mind back to the days he had led from a throne inside a prison. "The very worst part of Hell for me was being alone. I had my demons, they came to seek audience and advice, but other than them, I was totally alone for millennia, starved for normal interaction. You, having always had the company of others, cannot possibly understand what that was like. It's one of the reasons I am so grateful to you for freeing me."

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't mean to. I thought I was doing the right thing."

Lucifer smiled. "I can understand how that must haunt you. You were manipulated by angels and demons alike. It really wasn't your fault."

Sam shook his head, as if batting away an unpleasant thought. "I still did it."

Lucifer saw the torment in Sam's expression, and he wished he had a way to comfort him. He didn't like to see him suffering. He rallied for a way to bring some comfort to Sam. He'd thought the change of venue might have helped him but that fell flat.

An idea occurred to him, and he weighed the risk involved before speaking. It was true that even if Dean knew exactly where Sam was, he would be powerless to do anything to retrieve him. Sam was under constant guard. When Lucifer was away, there was a wealth of demons there to monitor him. Also, there was the threat of Dean being harmed for Sam to consider. He made the deal to stay in return for Dean's protection. Lucifer didn't believe Sam would cast aside that protection so easily.

"Sam," he said softly. "Would you like to call your brother?"

It was worth the risk, Lucifer thought, to see the light return to Sam's eyes. His whole face was transformed, and he looked elated.

"Seriously?"

Lucifer nodded. "As long as you are careful not to alert him to our whereabouts."

He felt he still needed to say it, to set some limitations on it, for Sam's own benefit. If he thought Lucifer was softening...

Well, it was just good to have some limitations in place.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Dean was sitting on the couch in the rarely used lounge of Bobby's house. Bobby, Castiel and Chuck were in the study, waiting for him to return. Dean was waiting for the phone call, the phone call Chuck had promised was coming. He didn't know what would be said, as Chuck didn't write those pages. The ones he did write were enough.

He sipped his whiskey and looked back over that day's pages. Sam had been moved to a new hotel. That surprised Dean. He didn't think Lucifer would care about his surroundings. He didn't buy his excuse that he had moved them for Sam's own benefit—that was just more of his manipulation. Dean was pleased that Sam was in a nicer place, though. Even if it was, as Chuck had said in the pages, a gilded cage.

The fact Sam now had access to his laptop was good news. It would give him something to do to wile away the hours he was stuck there. He could keep up to date on the news and goings on in the world. It should help him.

The worst part of the pages was the recitation of Sam's nightmare. Dean had never asked, nor had he wanted to know, what happened after his death. He knew how it had felt for _him _to carry his brother's body away from that dirt road and back into the cabin in Cold Oak. He knew how it had felt to look down at Sam and know that it was just a shell, that the spirit that made it a person was gone. He'd never really considered the fact he and Sam had those experiences in common now. He wished they didn't.

It was harder to read the pages now, as he knew that now or very soon, Sam would be suffering through the nightmare miles away, and the only person there to give him comfort when he woke would be the Devil. Dean gave Lucifer begrudging credit for how he helped Sam, waking him up like that. It was what Dean would have done, but he wouldn't have then dragged all those hellish memories from his brother by making him recite what had happened, though it had seemed to help Sam.

He turned his phone over in his hand and wished the screen would light up with an incoming call. Chuck hadn't been able to nail down a time for the call; all he knew was that it would be soon.

Dean sat in silence for another hour before the phone call came. He was staring at the blank screen when it came to life. He snatched it up and hammered the answer button in his haste to speak to his brother.

"Sammy?"

In response, there was a soft hitching sigh. "Dean."

It was a greeting and a reassurance in itself. As if Sam didn't trust that Dean was okay until he heard his voice.

Dean rested his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. "Do I have to tell you how pissed I am about what you've gone and done? What were you thinking making that deal, Sam?"

"You know?" Sam sounded surprised.

"I know it all," Dean said. "Before I forget, Chuck says hi." He hoped that would be enough to tip Sam off to the fact Chuck was now with them and keeping them up to date on what's happening to him.

"Ah, yeah, good ole Chuck," Sam said with clear relief in his voice. "You taking care of him?"

"Doing my best," Dean said. "We're making do."

"It's good to hear your voice. How's the wound?"

"Healing," Dean said simply. "Bobby took care of it for me."

"That's good. Is he okay?"

"He's worried, like the rest of us are. How you doing, Sam, really?"

"I'm fine," Sam said. "It's not as bad as you'd think."

Dean knew Lucifer was present for this phone call, as Chuck told him he would be, so he understood Sam not telling him the truth about how it was, but he wished he would. He knew from the pages that Sam was struggling, and his reassurance sounded more like acceptance of his situation. Dean didn't want him accepting it. He wanted him to fight back.

"Listen, Dean," Sam said. "I'm sorry for leaving you the way I did. I wish I could have taken time to explain it all."

"I know you had no choice," Dean said. "But I owe you a punch."

Sam laughed. Dean could tell it was a genuine laugh, perhaps the first in days, and it made him feel a little better about the mess they have found themselves in. If Sam was able to laugh, he couldn't be all that bad off really, could he?

"I'll bear that in mind," Sam said when he had calmed again. "So, what have you been doing?"

"A lot of reading," Dean said honestly. "And not a lot else."

"You're not hunting?" Sam sounded genuinely shocked, and it caught Dean off guard.

"Well, there are no guidelines for when your brother has been kidnapped by the Devil," he said testily.

There was rustling in the background, and Dean could imagine Sam running his hand through his hair in frustration. "You can't do this, Dean," he said. "I'm out of the game, but you aren't. You've gotta keep fighting."

Dean huffed. "And leave you there alone?"

"You and I both know I'm here for the duration. There's nothing you can do about that, but you can made a difference to other people. You're a hunter, Dean, the best there is; don't let more people suffer because of me."

Dean wanted to tell his brother that it was not like that, that he was doing his damned best already, but he couldn't lie. Sam was right. He was out of the game, but that didn't mean Dean was. There was still an apocalypse happening, and he needed to be working against it. He thought of what Castiel said about their free pass from demons. He should be taking advantage of that and taking out as many black-eyed sons of bitches as he could instead of sitting around waiting on each page from Chuck, as if that was helping anyone but him.

"Okay," he said heavily. "I'll get back to it, but you've got to promise me something in return."

"Anything," Sam said without hesitation. "You know that."

"You stay strong, Sammy. I know things are tough right now, and it's got to be confusing, but you have to remember who and what you are with. Don't let your guard down."

"I promise. And you stay strong, too."

"You know it," Dean said with bravado. He heard another voice in the background of the call, and his hand tightened around the phone. That was Lucifer's voice he could hear. Lucifer talking to his brother, his Sam, as if he had any right to. It was so beyond messed up it was all Dean could do to keep his head and not shout curses at him.

"Um, I've got to go," Sam said.

Dean pushed down his anger to answer his brother in a steady voice. "Okay, Sammy. I'll talk to you soon."

"Yeah, maybe. Bye, Dean."

Dean was about to respond, but he realized Sam had already gone. He set the phone down on his lap and rubbed his hands over his eyes. His every muscle was tensed, and he felt an overwhelming urge to punch something or someone. Emotion threatened to engulf him, and he had to remind himself that no matter what Sam said, it was only a matter of time before he got him back. He had to. He was the big brother. It was his job.

He heard movement at the door, and he turned to see Bobby on the threshold.

"You okay?" he asked.

Dean shrugged.

"Yeah." Bobby nodded understandingly. "Yeah, I know how you feel. Come back in here and I'll fetch you a drink."

Dean picked up his glass and followed Bobby back into the study. Castiel was standing by the window, watching Dean carefully. Bobby took his empty glass and refilled it for him.

"How did he sound?" Bobby asked.

Dean paused for a moment, thinking of the hitching sigh at the beginning of the call and the steely determination in Sam's voice when he told Dean to get back to hunting.

"He sounds like Sam," he said. "He's doing about as well as we've read."

"You're troubled," Castiel stated.

"Yeah, Cas. It's hard not to be when your brother is trapped with the Devil."

Castiel gave him a searching look. "It's more than that, though. Something is troubling you."

Dean sighed. "He's doing good, which is great, but he's doing a little too good if you know what I mean."

Castiel merely looked blankly back at him.

"He's trapped with the Devil," Dean said again. "Shouldn't there be a little more fear from him? Even in the pages, he doesn't seem all that scared."

"He's obviously braver than we give him credit for," Castiel said.

"I don't know if it's bravery, Cas. That's the problem. He seems a little too comfortable with everything."

Bobby knocked back his whiskey and set the glass down hard on the table. "I think you're seeing troubles where there are none. God knows things are bad enough already. Let's not go looking for more."

Dean nodded as if he was accepting of Bobby's words, but inside he was still troubled. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

* * *

Dean couldn't sleep that night. His thoughts were too full of Sam. He finally gave up trying at around five-am, and he made his way downstairs. He was surprised to find Bobby was already awake and seated at the desk.

"You couldn't sleep either?"

Bobby shook his head. "I gave up trying an hour ago. Now, I'm elbow deep in demon lore. I figure we should read up as much as we can before we put our free passes to work.

"Good thinking," Dean said. "I was thinking of searching up a case on Chuck's computer."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Is this because of what Sam said yesterday?" Seeing Dean's confusion, he continued. "Chuck gave us the cliff-notes version."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. I told Sammy I'd keep going, and that's what I have to do. Even..."

"Even if it's the last thing you feel like doing," Bobby finished for him. "I get that, but Sam has a point. Just because he's out of the game, doesn't mean we all are."

Dean went over to the kitchen table and turned on Chuck's computer. It took a moment to load, and when it did, Dean was frustrated that none of his usual webpages are favorited as they were on Sam's laptop. He had to go through Google to find the news pages.

By the time he found something remotely newsworthy, Chuck was awake and waiting at his elbow for his turn on the computer.

"I thought you'd want to know what's happening with Sam," he said testily when Dean told him to back off.

"I do," Dean said, "but I think I've found something here." He printed the police report he had been looking at and vacated the chair for Chuck to get to work at the computer.

Bobby took the sheet of paper from him and read aloud. "Amber Freer, age 16. Killed by wild animal. Blah, blah, blah. Clawed her head open?" Bobby looked up. "That's something new."

Dean nodded. "Could just be a wild animal, but the local weather is lit up with demon signs. I'm thinking we've got some demons to test our new free passes out with."

Bobby clapped his hands on the wheels of his chair. "Guess this one's all on you and Cas. I'm not made for demon chasing at the moment."

Dean nodded. He knew Bobby was out of this particular fight, but he was pleased that he didn't have to be the one to point it out. "You can keep an eye on Chuck for us."

Bobby laughed. "Yeah, between me and the archangel Raphael, Chuck will be all taken care of."

"I'm going to go shower," Dean said. "If Cas arrives, keep him here. I don't fancy taking one of the junkers to Nebraska, and Baby is still in Ohio."

When Dean got back downstairs, fresh from the shower, Castiel was waiting for him. "I understand we are going to Nebraska," he said by way of a greeting.

"Yep. You think you can angel mojo us there?"

Castiel nodded. "Of course. Would you like to wait for the pages first?"

Dean was torn. He wanted to wait to read what Sam was going to be doing that day, but he also had a promise to keep.

"Chuck," he calls. "Anything important I need to know?"

Chuck looked up from the computer. "Nothing really."

Dean nodded. "Okay, then. We'll be back as soon as we can. Call us if anything important happens."

"You know it," Bobby said. "And you take care out there. We don't know how many demons are affiliated with Lucifer yet. Don't get cocky."

"Don't worry, Bobby," Castiel said solemnly. "I will take good care of him."

* * *

Castiel's eyes bored into Dean's. "He is the antichrist, Dean. We have no choice but to kill him."

Dean pushed away from the wall and glared at Castiel. "He's just a child, Cas. We can't kill a child."

"He is not a child. He is the greatest weapon in Lucifer's arsenal."

"He doesn't know that! He thinks he's just a normal kid."

"What he believes doesn't matter; it's in his very blood."

"Like Sam," Dean stated coldly. "It was in his blood, too, right?"

Castiel looked at the floor. "It was not the same thing. This child is not your brother."

"No. My brother is currently trapped with Lucifer because he overcame what was in his blood and made a sacrifice to save me. He did that. Who's to say this kid can't do the same?" Dean sighed and raked a hand over his face. "We can't just kill him, Cas. We have to give him a chance. We can take him back to Bobby's. We can keep an eye on him there."

Castiel sighed. "Raphael won't like it."

"Raphael can blow me," Dean said shortly.

Castiel's lips quirked into a smile. "Very well. I shall attempt to do it your way, but I warn you now, Raphael will not take kindly to this. If he decides to smite the child, there is nothing you nor I can do about it without dying ourselves."

Dean considered for a moment. Raphael was a pain in the ass, but the added protection he brought to Bobby's house was useful, and they couldn't send Chuck away. Or could they? If it meant keeping Jesse safe, they could let Chuck go back to his house. He could send in the pages via email for them to read. It wouldn't be the worst thing.

"If Jesse agrees to came with us, we will send Chuck home."

Castiel nodded. "That will made things much easier for all concerned."

Castiel took them back to Jesse's house, and Dean knocked on the door. Jesse opened it and looked thoughtful as he saw Dean and Castiel.

"Hey, Jesse," Dean said. "Mind if we came in?"

Jesse stepped back, and Dean and Castiel entered. The boy led them to the living room where they took a seat. Jesse remained standing, looking at them curiously.

"What are you doing here?"

"We came to talk to you," Dean said. "About something important."

Jesse tilted his head to the side. "Like what?"

"You're special, Jesse. You know that, right?"

Jesse looked at Dean, and Dean knew he understood what he was talking about. Jesse had some awareness of his powers.

"It's like this," Dean said. "You're like Superman—minus the cape and the go-go boots. See, my partner and I, we work for a secret government agency. It's our job to find kids with special powers. In fact, we're here to took you to a hidden base in South Dakota, where you'll be trained to fight evil.

"Like the X-Men?"

"Exactly like the X-Men." Dean chuckled. "In fact, the guy we're taking you to—he's even in a wheelchair. You'll be a hero. You'll save lives. You'll get the girl. Sounds like fun, right?"

Suddenly, the door was flung open and Julia Wright strode in. Her eyes were the onyx black that denoted demonic possession.

"He is lying to you," she said.

She raised an arm, as if about to sweep Dean against the wall, but she paused when Dean grinned at her. "Something funny?" she asked.

"Depends on where your allegiance lies, I guess," Dean said.

"What do you mean?"

Dean looked exceptionally smug. "My name is Dean Winchester. You heard of me?"

She shrieked and her hands clawed.

Dean laughed. "I'll take that as a yes."

"What's going on?" Jesse asked.

The demon looked away from Dean and Castiel as if they were beneath her notice. She looked at Jesse, her head tilting to the side. "Jesse, you're beautiful. You have your father's eyes."

Jesse's brow furrowed. "Who are you?"

"I'm your mother," the demon said.

Jesse shook his head. "No, you're not."

"Mm-hm. You're half human... half one of us."

"She means demons, Jesse," Dean said, but the demon spoke over him.

"Those people you call your parents, they lied to you, too. You're not theirs, not really."

"My mom and dad love me," Jesse said in a small voice.

"Do they? Is that why they leave you alone all day? Because they love you so much? These people—these imposters—they told you that the tooth fairy was real and that your toys could hurt you and a hundred other things that aren't true. They love you so much, they made your whole life a lie. Look into your heart, Jesse. You've always known you weren't theirs. You've always known you were different. Everyone has lied to you. They're not FBI agents. And you're not a superhero."

"Then what am I?"

"You're powerful. You can have anything you want. You can do anything you want."

"Don't listen to her, Jesse!" Dean said, sliding the demon knife down the sleeve of his jacket and into his hand.

"They treated you like a child. Nobody trusted you. Everybody's lied to you. Doesn't that made you angry?"

Jesse began to tremble and he clenched his hands into fists. The room began to rattle, and the demon looked up at the ceiling as the lights begin to flicker.

"See? It does made you angry. But I'm telling you the truth, Jesse."

Dean looked around him as the pictures on the wall begin to shake off and the lamp shattered. He knew they were going to have to do something soon. He gripped the knife tightly.

"Wouldn't it be better if there were no lies? Come with me and you can wash it all clean. Start over. Imagine that, a world without lies."

Castiel looked at Jesse. "She is right. We have lied to you."

The demon's gaze snapped to Castiel.

Dean looked hesitantly between the demon and Jesse. "But we'll tell you the truth," Dean said, stepping forward.

The demon raised a fist and suddenly Dean couldn't speak. There was a pressure building around his throat, like something was trying to squeeze it. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Papa's gonna be mad," he rasped.

Castiel moved forward just as Jesse shouted. "Stop it!"

Jesse looked at Dean and then back at the demon. "I want to hear what he has to say."

"You're stronger than I thought," the demon said.

Dean rubbed at his throat. "We lied to you, and I'm sorry. So here's the truth. I'm Dean Winchester. That's my friend, Castiel. We hunt monsters."

"Except when your brother is the monster. Right, Dean?"

Dean looked at Jesse and nodded toward the demon. "And that woman right there, her name is Julia. She is your mother. But the thing inside of her, the thing that you're talking to, it's a demon."

Jesse looked confused. "A demon?"

The demon glared at Dean. "He has done nothing but lie to you since the moment you met him. Don't listen to him. Punish him."

Jesse small hands fisted at his sides. "Sit down and shut up."

A chair scooted up behind the demon and she was forced into it, silent. She struggled to speak, but Jesse just shook his head and looked to Dean.

"There's, uh, kind of a... a war between angels and demons, and you're a part of it."

"I'm just a kid."

Castiel looked at the boy, his face serious. "You can go with her if you want. We cannot stop you. No one can. But if you do, millions of people will die."

Jesse looked thoughtful. "She said I was half demon. Is that true?"

"Yes," Dean said. "But you're half human, too. You can do the right thing. You've got choices, Jesse. But if you made the wrong ones, it'll haunt you for the rest of your life."

Jesse looked between Dean and the demon. Castiel stepped forward. "We can give you your mother back."

"You can?" Jesse asked.

Castiel nodded. Castiel and Dean exchange glances, and then Castiel walked up to the demon. He placed his hand on her forehead as she bucked in the chair trying to escape. Castiel closed his eyes, and a moment later, she slumped back in the chair.

"Is she gonna be all right?" Jesse asked,

Dean looked across at Julia. She looked like she was sleeping. "Eventually."

"What now?"

Dean looked at Castiel, but the angel was no help. He was still wary of the child. "Now we take you someplace safe, get you trained up," he said. "You'd be handy in a fight, kid."

"What if I don't want to fight?"

Dean felt a pang of sadness for the child. He had no choice now. Whichever side he chose would eventually mean he had to fight.

"Jesse, you're powerful. More powerful than pretty much anything we've ever seen. That makes you—"

"A freak," Jesse said, sounding near tears.

"To some people, maybe, but not to us." He gestured between himself and Castiel. "See, we're kind of freaks ourselves."

"I can't stay here, can I?" Jesse asked hopefully.

"No. The demons know where you are and more will be coming."

"I won't go without my mom and dad."

"There's nothing more important than family. We get that. And if you really want to took them with you, we'll back your play. But you got to understand—it's gonna be dangerous for them, too."

Jesse blinked, looking at Dean. "What do you mean?"

"My dad... he would took us with him wherever he went," Dean explained.

"Where is he now?"

"Dead. A demon killed him." Dean paused. "Look, Jesse, once you're in this fight, you're in it till the end, win or lose."

"What should I do?" Jesse asked.

Dean looked at him sympathetically. "We can't tell you. It's your choice. It's not fair. I know."

"Can I go see my parents? I... I need to say goodbye."

"Sure."

Dean watched the child walk from the room, his shoulders slumped. He felt like a dick for putting the kid through this, but there was no other option. If he stayed here, the demons would swarm the place, probably killing his family for kicks. He had to leave them behind for their safety.

Suddenly, Castiel stiffened and made for the door.

"Cas?" Dean said. "What is it?"

Castiel didn't answer. Dean followed him up the stairs and into the kid's bedroom. It was empty. On the bed there was a note.

"What's it say?" Dean asked as Castiel reached for it.

"That he had to leave to keep his parents safe, that he loves them, and he is sorry."

"How do we find him?" Dean asked.

"With the boy's powers, we can't. Not unless he wants to be found."

Dean cursed under his breath. He had failed again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The new, nicer hotel room had its benefits. One of which was the endless hot water in the shower. Sam stood under the hot spray of water for a long time, feeling it pounding down over his shoulders and relaxing his tense muscles. The shower was the one place he had privacy. Even Lucifer didn't disturb him here.

He finished washing and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel and quickly dried himself off, tying it around his waist when he was done. He stepped out of the steamy bathroom and into the cool air of the room. He looked around and was somehow unsurprised to see Lucifer there, watching him.

"I thought you were out," Sam said.

Lucifer shrugged. "I took care of what I had to. It seems you have as well."

Sam looked down at himself and realized his state of undress. He blushed and hurried over to the bed where his clothes are waiting. He grabbed the pile of clothing and held it up, covering his chest. "Haven't you ever heard of personal space?"

"Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?" Lucifer raised a brow.

Sam swallowed. "Yes, actually, you are."

"I shall give you some… _personal _space then. Call when you're ready." And then Lucifer disappeared.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He tossed the clothing back on the bed and quickly changed.

Once he was dressed, he walked over to the center of the room and cleared his throat. He looked up at the ceiling and spoke. "Um, I'm ready now."

There was a fluttering sound and then Lucifer was there. He looked pleased that Sam had called him, as if he thought that Sam might not.

"So, Sam, do you have plans for the day?"

Sam shrugged. "Not really. There's not really a lot to do."

"In that case, would you like to accompany me to the local diner for some breakfast?"

Sam's stomach chose that moment to growl. Lucifer looked at him with a smile.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Lucifer stepped over to touch Sam's hand, presumably to transport them there, but Sam stepped back. "Can we walk? I mean it's great and all to zap there, but I miss the outdoors."

Lucifer frowned. "You aren't a captive, Sam. You are allowed outside."

"You really trust me?"

Lucifer nodded, his expression serious. "Of course. All you have to do is ask. I want you to be comfortable, to be happy. Whatever you need Sam, you only have to ask."

Sam nodded. "Okay, let's go then."

It was not as strange as it should, be to walk down the street beside the Devil. It almost felt normal.

When they reached the diner, Lucifer stepped forward and opened the door for Sam. He gestured him in ahead of himself. Sam gave him a strange look but stepped forward around the Devil.

They took a seat in the corner at a booth, and a moment later, a gum popping waitress came up to them. She handed them each a menu. "Can I get you two something to drink?"

Sam looked up from his menu. "Coffee, please."

The waitress looked to Lucifer. "And you, hon?"

Lucifer waved his hand. "I don't require anything."

The waitress gave him a strange look and then nodded. "Sure thing." She looked to Sam. "I'll have your coffee right out to you."

Sam looked over his menu. He decided on Dean's favorite, maybe because he missed him. He looked over his menu at Lucifer. "Are you going to eat?"

Lucifer raised his brows and a small smile quirked his lips, as if he thought the idea was humorous. "I don't need to eat to sustain this body."

"Sustenance isn't the only reason people eat. People eat because they're happy or sad, or when they're celebrating. It's a social thing, not just a food thing."

Lucifer considered Sam's words. "Would it please you if I ate?"

Sam looked at him and then shrugged. "I'm not going to force you or anything; I'm just saying it would be nice. If you don't want to, you don't have to."

"I will eat," Lucifer said after a moment, maybe more to himself than to Sam. "What would you recommend, as I have no previous experience with such things?"

"Why don't you have what I'm having, pancakes?"

Lucifer nodded. "Pancakes. Okay."

The waitress returned with Sam's coffee. "So do you two know what you'd like?"

"We'd like two short stacks, please," Sam said.

The waitress scratched it down on her pad and then looked back up. "Anything else?"

"No, we're all set."

"Okay, then," she said, taking back the menus. "It'll be right out."

Sam swallowed and looked around. Lucifer's hawk-like gaze was fixed on him, and it was making it hard to think.

"What's wrong?" Lucifer asked.

Sam looked over at him and shrugged. "Nothing. I guess I'm just confused."

"About?"

"Why you care so much."

Lucifer draws a breath. "Because you're important to me."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

Sam sighed. "I just wish something would make sense. Everything has been so confusing lately. I don't know. It's just a lot, I guess. I miss Dean. I miss Bobby. I miss my life."

Lucifer looked hurt. "I understand."

The waitress returned with their food and set the plates down in front of them with a smile and promise to return to refresh Sam's coffee.

Lucifer looked at the food with contempt, but he picked up his fork and poked at his pancakes nonetheless. He leaned down and sniffed the plate.

"They're just pancakes, Lucifer. They're not going to kill you."

Lucifer looked up at Sam and rolled his eyes. "There is little that can."

"Just eat, Lucifer. They're good."

Lucifer watched Sam for a moment and then brought his fork down to the stack of pancakes in front of him. Slowly, he brought a forkful of pancake up to his mouth, and with one last look down at it, he brought it to his lips.

Sam had to repress a laugh as he watched the Devil. He was making the process of eating seem painful. "Not bad, right?" he asked, stabbing another piece of pancake.

Lucifer continued to chew his first bite and then swallowed with a grimace. "It's tolerable."

Sam laughed. "Thanks for trying, but if it's not your thing, don't worry about. I appreciate the effort."

Lucifer smiled and took another bite. "As a social activity, I assume we should talk."

Sam looked at him, eyes wide. "Yeah, um... What do you want to talk about? And please can we skip the subject of you raising horsemen. I don't want to lose the little appetite that I have."

Lucifer nodded. "Understandable. Tell me about your life then."

"You already know it all."

Lucifer tilted his head to the side. "But I don't. I don't really know _you _at all. I would like to, though."

Sam sat in silence for a moment. Lucifer genuinely seemed to want to know more about him, and not just in an I-want-to-wear-you-to-the-prom kind of way. He wondered what to talk about, and if he even wanted to.

"You don't have to," Lucifer said, sounding disappointed.

Sam shook his head. "It's not that. I'm just having a little trouble working out what you want to know and why."

"Because you interest me, Sam. Every facet of your being is a puzzle to me."

Sam huffed a laugh. "I'm a puzzle. That makes me feel good."

Lucifer frowned. "I think I am misunderstood. All I mean was that you intrigue me, Sam. I want to know everything about you."

"Fine," Sam said. "I'll tell you something, but first, you have to tell me something."

"Whatever you want to know," Lucifer said earnestly.

"What was it like?" Sam asked. "Falling?"

Lucifer stiffened. "You are asking me how it felt to be cast out of heaven?"

Sam nodded. Part of him wanted to retract the question, to remove the look of anguish from Lucifer's face. But another, more dominant part of him, wanted to know the answer.

"Painful," Lucifer said softly. "Not merely physically, but emotionally. I did not just fall as your friend Castiel did, I was cast out. My brother, my beloved family, sent me away and left me to rot. I was so angry." His hands fisted on the tabletop. "Furious that they had all chosen your kind over me. Imagine your brother choosing an ant over you, and you can came close to understanding my confusion."

Sam shuddered at the thought. He'd made the wrong choice in the past, but Dean never had. He always put Sam first, even before his own life. He couldn't imagine how it must have felt for Lucifer.

He found himself wanting to comfort Lucifer, though he doesn't know what to say. He examined the feeling, trying to made sense of it. This _was_ the Devil, his captor, he shouldn't want to comfort him, it made no sense, but the urge remained.

"I can't imagine what that must have been like for you," he said.

"You're right, you can't," Lucifer said simply. "I am glad you cannot. Feeling that betrayal would surely break you. It changed me. I was a different being before my fall. I know that's hard for you to imagine, seeing me as you do, but I was not always as I am."

Sam considered his words carefully. He had seen a different side to the Devil already. Before he left Dean in that warehouse and prayed to Lucifer, he had believed the Devil was hard and cruel, with no care for anyone but himself. Since his captivity, he had seen a different side to the angel. He seemed genuine in his care for Sam, and Sam believed it was more than his appointment as his vessel. If possible, Lucifer cared for Sam as a person.

"So," Lucifer said, breaking into his thoughts. "I have shared something about myself. Tell me something about you."

Sam considered carefully. "What would you like to know?"

"What was your first memory?"

Sam smiled in spite of himself. That was an easy one to answer. "Dean," he said simply. "I don't know how old I was, or even where we were, but I remember there was a play park, and I fell down. Kinda like that kid in the park the other day. I remember I bit my lip, and the blood scared the crap out of me. I was crying, and then Dean was there. He used his shirt to wipe the blood of my chin."

"Where was your father?" Lucifer asked.

Sam shrugged. "Dunno. Not there. He could have been out on a hunt or out getting loaded. It was usually one of the two when we were growing up."

Lucifer frowned. "You smile as you tell the story, but it doesn't seem like a happy story to me. You were injured and your father was absent."

Sam looked pensive. "I guess it's all about perspective. For Dean, that's probably a bad memory, I got hurt on his watch, but for me it's a good memory because Dean was there. He took care of me like he always does."

"I used to have a brother like Dean," Lucifer said thoughtfully, and then his expression darkened. "His name was Michael. I never doubted Michael would be there for me, but he cast me into the cage."

A question occurred to Sam and he paused.

"Whatever you want to know, just ask," Lucifer said. "It is your turn after all."

"If you could go back and change it all, would you?"

Lucifer was silent for so long Sam was sure he wasn't going to answer.

Lucifer looked down at the tabletop, considering carefully. Eventually, he raised his head and looked Sam in the eye. "No. I would do it all again. The path my choices put me upon was a hard one, but I do not regret a step of the journey. It led me to this day and this place."

"A diner in Detroit?" Sam asked with a quirked brow.

"No, Sam, not the diner," Lucifer said. He pushed away his plate and looked to Sam. "Are you finished?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I've had enough for now." He gestured to the waitress for the bill and paid with one of the last folded notes in his wallet. "I'm running low," he said. "Unless you have a stash of cash, I'm going to need to hit a bar soon."

Lucifer looked puzzled. "You need to hit a bar?"

"Poker and pool, Lucifer. It's how we get our cash."

"There will be no need for that. My demons acquire money for their needs. I shall merely extract some from them."

Sam nodded, but he felt a little disappointed. He would have liked to catch a game. It would have been a nice slice of normality in a week filled with the strange and confusing.

They made their way back to the hotel and up to Sam's room. Lucifer paused at the door as Sam went inside and threw himself down on the bed.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, looking across at Lucifer who was hovering at the door.

"I didn't know if you would want company," he said.

Sam considered. He didn't particularly want Lucifer analyzing him as he watched TV, but at the same time, he didn't have the heart to send him away. He looked oddly destitute standing in the doorway.

"Well, I'm only watching TV, but if you don't have anything better to do, I guess you can join me."

Lucifer nodded hesitantly and stepped into the room, perching on the end of the bed.

Sam scrolled through the movies available on demand and a laugh bubbled out of him.

"What is it?" Lucifer asked.

"I was just thinking. This hotel has an impressive selection of porn on demand. Dean would be in heaven."

Lucifer raised his brows. "Your brother is an interesting character."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, he is." He paused and looked sad. "I miss him."

"That's understandable. I miss my family as well."

Sam looked over at Lucifer and saw the pain in his expression. "But you wouldn't change anything."

Lucifer sighed. "I don't expect you to understand me, Sam."

"That's good, because I don't."

Lucifer nodded, but he looked dissatisfied, as if Sam was missing something important.

* * *

Lucifer watched Sam as he flipped through the channels, finally coming to rest on the news. It was a local show, and they were discussing the tragic death of a family in a car accident.

Lucifer barely paid it any attention; he was more interested in watching Sam as he reacted to the news. His facial expressions went from mildly interested, to confused and then horrorstruck. He was perplexed by the last until he heard Sam's moan.

"No! Why?"

Lucifer's attention flicked to the screen and he felt understanding dawn. The picture displayed was a small family, a mother and her three children. The names are listed. Sonia, James, Gareth and... Sarah, the child Sam had saved.

Sam was staring at the television screen, open-mouthed. Seemingly without thought, he pressed the volume button on the remote until the newsreader's voice echoed throughout the room.

"There has been no confirmation of the circumstances around the accident, but we have been told that all passengers died on impact."

Lucifer reached across for the remote and he turned the television off. Sam stared at the blank screen as if he was unable to tear his eyes away.

"Sam?" Lucifer said hesitantly.

Sam turned to look at him, and Lucifer was shocked to see wetness in Sam's eyes.

"But I saved her," he said plaintively.

Lucifer's hand twitched, as if he was about to reach out to Sam, but he kept it firmly placed in his lap. "I believe that may be why."

"I don't understand."

"You averted the child's path. She was destined to die, but you were there, and you intervened. For whatever reason, her path was adjusted, which led her to be in the car at that time on that day."

Sam bowed his head and raked his hands through his hair. "Why did the whole family die though?"

Lucifer sighed heavily. "I can only imagine the child herself was somehow at fault for the accident."

"But she was just a kid." Sam pushed himself to his feet and began to pace the length of the room.

Lucifer watched him pace, feeling at a loss. "I don't have all the answers, Sam. I wish I did. I can perhaps find out for you."

Sam paused in his pacing. "No. Call me a coward, but I don't want to know."

"That does not made you a coward," Lucifer said then thought for a moment before speaking again. "Would it comfort you to know that she was in a better place? They all are."

"No, it doesn't comfort me," Sam snapped. "It makes me feel like an even bigger asshole for causing the death of two more innocent children. If I had just left it that day, if I hadn't got in the way of the reaper..." He fisted his hands at his sides.

"You are not the first to interfere with my father's master plan, Sam," Lucifer said. "Or even the first of your family. Your brother did that the day he made a deal for your resurrection."

"No offence, Lucifer," Sam said. "But your father is a dick."

Lucifer laughed. "No offence taken. I have myself fought against his will for many millennia now." He raised an eyebrow. "We truly are destined."

And that, Lucifer thought, was precisely the problem.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

When Sam woke the next morning, Lucifer was sitting at the desk. Sam started as he caught sight of him.

"Good morning," Lucifer said.

"Is there a reason you are watching me sleep?"

"Is this another of those personal space things?"

Sam chuckled. "Definitely. And I ask again, why are you watching me sleep?"

Lucifer looked apologetic. "I wanted to speak to you."

Sam pushed his hair out of his face and looked to the fallen angel to speak.

"I have to go away for a while," Lucifer said. "There are... things that I must attend to."

Things like raising horsemen and ending the world, Sam thought.

It was not just the news that Lucifer was going to wreak havoc that bothered him, though he told himself it was. The truth was that he didn't want Lucifer to go and leave him alone with only his demons for company.

"You are unhappy," Lucifer said, looking oddly pleased about that fact. "Why?"

"How long are you going for?" Sam asked in response.

"I don't know. Perhaps a week. Now, tell me why you are unhappy."

Sam sighed. "Because I am going to be stuck here with your demons."

Lucifer looked disappointed. "I am sorry for it. If it would made you more comfortable, I can instruct them to keep their distance. You need only speak with them when you want to."

"That's easy enough. I will never want to talk to them," Sam said bitterly.

"You have my word that they will leave you in peace. Now, I must be leaving. Is there anything you need before I go?"

"Money," Sam said. "Unless you're telling me I can go hustle pool to get some."

"I don't think that's wise. You could become embroiled in trouble. I know how fickle humans can be over money." Lucifer reached into his back pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. "Will this be enough?"

It was enough cash to last Sam and Dean for weeks without fake credit cards. It would definitely be enough to tide him over for a week on diner food.

"It's plenty," Sam said. "Thanks, Lucifer."

Lucifer smiled. "I should leave now." He looked reluctant though.

"You probably should," Sam said. "I need to shower."

Lucifer nodded. "If you need me, pray."

Sam thought it was odd that a fallen angel was asking him to pray but he didn't comment.

One moment Lucifer was looking at Sam with an unnamable expression, the next he was gone and Sam was alone in the room. He flopped back against the pillows and relished the solitude for a moment. He had a whole week of his own company ahead of him. He never thought he would feel so relieved to have time alone. He wished Dean was there to enjoy the time, and then he saw the contradiction. He needed to learn to be alone properly, as he had a feeling that, as Lucifer's plans drew to a close, he was going to grow used to his own company.

He pushed back the blankets and headed to the shower, thinking that he would get his routine over with and then head out to the diner for breakfast.

He made quick work of showering and changing, and soon he was walking down the stairs and out of the hotel. He didn't see anyone following him, but he felt them. He supposed it was too much to ask for the demons to allow him to wander freely about the town.

When he got to the diner and sank down into his booth, he was greeted by the same gum-popping waitress as the day before.

"Where's your friend?" she asked. Sam looked blankly at her for a moment and she elucidated. "The guy in the green shirt.

"He is out of town for a few days."

She sighed. "Pity. He sure was hot."

Sam turned his laugh into a cough. It was surreal to think of anyone thinking of Lucifer as hot. In the literal sense, Sam had noticed that Lucifer seemed to be colder than most people. It was like sitting close to an air conditioner unit sometimes.

"So, what can I get you?" she asked

"A coffee, please, and a short stack." The pancakes had been good the day before. Also, it was Dean's favorite, and Sam was clinging to anything of his brother that he could get.

The waitress walked away, and Sam looked around the diner. There were only a couple of tables filled. An elderly couple were eating together but not talking. It didn't seem like that silence of animosity, more that they had been together so long that words were not necessary to communicate.

Sam watched them for a moment, his thoughts drifting to Jess. She was the first and last woman he had ever truly loved. He had once hoped of having that future with her. That was all ashes now. Sam didn't think he would ever have that future. It remained to be seen if _anyone _would have that future anymore. Sam didn't know Lucifer's plans, but he doubted lazy breakfasts in diners for couples were a part of it.

The waitress came back over and set a mug and plate down in front of him. She watched as Sam doctored his coffee and took a bite of the pancakes.

"It's good," he said, wondering what she was waiting for.

"I'm Shirley," she said.

"Sam."

She nodded as if she was expecting more, but Sam failed to deliver.

"So," she twirled a strand of hair around her finger, "I was thinking. My shift's over in a few hours, and there's a bar near here..."

Sam raised an eyebrow. Was he being hit on while he tried to eat his breakfast? It seemed too bizarre, but as she pulled the elastic out of her hair and shook her blonde curls over her shoulders he thought that must be it. He tried not to laugh.

"I'm afraid I'm busy today," he said.

She pouted. "You can't get out of it?"

"No," he said firmly, forking up another mouthful of pancakes. "But thanks."

She looked thoughtful for a moment and then she clapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh, I get it. Sorry."

"What do you get?" Sam's brow creases in confusion.

"You and your _friend_, you're together, right?"

Sam choked on his mouthful. Coughing harshly, he tried to speak. "No, definitely not."

"You sure?"

Sam nodded, massaging his aching chest. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Then what's the problem?" she asked.

Sam merely looked at her. She couldn't possibly be so arrogant to believe he must be gay because he was not interested in hooking up with her, could she?

Just then, a voice called out from the counter. "Shirley, if you're not too busy flirting, these meals need serving."

Shirley gave Sam one last assessing glance, and then she turned and walked back to the counter.

Sam's appetite was gone. He pushed away his plate and tossed a couple of bills down to cover his tab and Shirley's tip, not that she'd really earned herself one.

When Sam got back to his room, he noticed right away how empty it was. He walked over to the bed and grabbed the remote then turned on the TV. Kicking his shoes off, he flopped down on the bed and checked what was on. He found himself drawn to the news. He wondered if he could pin down Lucifer's presence in the stories. There was nothing of interest though, and so he flicked it off and went to the laptop.

He took a seat at the desk while the computer began to load. Once it was up, he went to Google and began searching for patterns in the news, anything that might clue him into Lucifer's whereabouts. He didn't see anything.

Sighing, he raked a hand through his hair and pushed himself back from the desk. He got up and began to pace the room. It seemed all too big now that there was no one there to share it with.

He thought of going out, to the park or something, and then he remembered the fallout from his last trip to the park, and it soured his mood.

Thoughts of the little girl, Sarah, and her family swept through his mind. It was all his fault. That was the fact his mind kept returning to. If he hadn't interfered, only one person would have died that day. It would have been tragic, but not as bad as the entire family losing their lives.

He threw himself down on the bed and covered his face with his arm. Feeling alone and with nothing left to do, he curled up on the bed and closed his eyes. Sleep didn't find him easily though and he spent most of his first night alone wrestling with nightmares. He woke more than once in a cold sweat.

When the first rays of morning light shine in through the window, he groaned and covered his head with a pillow.

As he lay there with the pillow over his head, acting much like a child, he realized he needed to do something. He couldn't just waste his time doing nothing when everyone else around him was fighting, for good or bad.

Knowing Chuck was watching, and therefore Dean, he pushed himself up out of bed and prepared for another day,

He showered and dressed and then settled himself down at the desk. Booting up his laptop, he tapped his fingers against his leg as he waited for it to load. When he had a webpage open, he typed in the address for one of his favorite news sites. It was a little eclectic, dealing with alien abductions and crop circles as much as real news, but he had found clues for cases there before. Halfway down the page he found something hopeful. There had been an animal mauling in Bloomington, Indiana. He pulled up the local police department's records and hacked his way through their joke of a firewall. Soon, he had the report open, and he saw the telltale sign of supernatural: a missing heart.

He clapped his hands and raised his eyes. "Chuck, I hope you're watching this, buddy. Tell Dean to check out the news for Bloomington, Indiana. I think we have a werewolf." He considered for a moment. "And, Chuck, tell them I'm okay."

* * *

It caught Sam off guard when he saw it. It was the second day after Lucifer left. He went to a small convenience store to buy the local paper, thinking it would at least be something to stave off the boredom, when the headline greeted him: **A TOWN IN MOURNING. **Below the headline, there was a picture of the smiling family of four. The family whose death he caused. He picked up the paper and skimmed the article. It was announcing the funeral.

Seeing the smiling faces represented in black and white newsprint affected Sam, and he found himself staring longingly at the array of liquor behind the counter. Without thought, he asked the kid behind the counter for a bottle of Jack Daniel's. The kid raised an eyebrow, probably because of the early hour, but he didn't comment. A few minutes later, Sam was clutching his paper wrapped bottle and hurrying back to the hotel.

When he got inside his room, he kicked off his shoes and went to the counter to get a glass. He poured the amber liquid and slugged it back in one swallow. It burned his throat and made him gasp, but it felt good. It was something to ground him in the present rather than letting his mind wander back to recent events.

The second glass went down smoother and the third smoother still. By the time half the bottle was gone, Sam was no longer bothering with a glass. He was necking it from the bottle.

That began the days of drinking and attempting to forget.

* * *

"Meg!" Sam shouted from the doorway.

Meg appeared and her nose wrinkled in disgust. She looked Sam up and down. "You bellowed."

"I need a drink," Sam said.

"I would have thought you'd had enough already."

Sam attempted to focus on her; it was hard as the alcohol was muddling his mind. "I didn't ask for your opinion, Meg. I just said I needed a drink. Now, off you go." He waved a hand at her.

Meg visibly paled. "I'm not saying this because I care, because I truly don't, but don't you think you've had enough? Lucifer will be back tomorrow, and he is not going to be pleased if you're dead of alcohol poisoning."

Sam hiccupped. "He'll just bring me back."

Meg scowled at him. "Fine, I'll get you a drink, but you have to do something for me in return."

Sam looked confused. "What do you want?"

"I want you to shower your grungy ass."

Sam threw back his head and laughed. "Sure, I'll shower. Gotta look good for when the Devil returns." That said, he slammed the door shut in her face and plodded back to the bed where he fell facedown onto the mattress.

Some small vestige of normal behavior remained, and he realized Chuck would be watching all of this. He raised his head and stared blearily at the opposite wall. "It's not what it looks like, Dean. Honest."

* * *

Sam rolled out of bed around noon the next day. He felt terrible. When he dragged himself into the bathroom and examined himself in the mirror above the sink, he saw that he looked terrible, too. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he sighed. He hadn't let himself get his bad since the weeks after Dean's death. Then, he had spent his days in a haze of alcohol and fury. He thought back over the last seven days and he cursed himself. Chuck would have been privy to every single drink, and unless Sam was blessed with extraordinary luck, Dean would know all about it, too.

He turned on the shower and stepped under the scorching spray of water. He felt grimy and disgusting. He couldn't remember the last time he showered or shaved. Judging by the scruff along his jawline, it'd been a few days.

When he finally felt clean again, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Standing at the sink, he shaved and then brushed his teeth. He looked much better, even if he didn't particularly feel it.

He walked back into the bedroom and pulled on a clean set of clothes. He noted the mess he had made of his room in the last week. The floor was strewn with clothes and there were empty bottles of liquor dotted around the room. He gathered up his clothes and stuffed them into the laundry bag, then he picked up the empty bottles and carried them to the door.

"Meg," he called.

She appeared at the door a moment later. "Winchester."

"Can you get rid of these for me?" he asked.

She blinked slowly. "That was almost polite. What's wrong with you? You look different." She tapped a hand on her chin. "I know what it is! You're sober. How does it feel to be back among the living?"

Sam scowled at her. "Will you do it or not?"

"I'll do it," she said, taking the bottles from him. "But don't confuse this with me actually caring."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Not a chance."

He closed the door and went back to the desk. He didn't know what time Lucifer would be back, so he rallied for something to do to kill the time. He didn't feel like eating, though he wasn't sure when he last ate a proper meal. Maybe when Lucifer got back they could go out to the diner.

He turned on the laptop and searched the police reports from Bloomington to see if there was any sign of Dean taking care of the werewolf.

He skimmed through a report and spotted something to make him smile despite the ache of longing it evoked. Agents Shaw and Young from the FBI joined the local law enforcement in the investigation. It had to be Dean and Cas. The thought made him happy and sad in equal measure. He was happy because Dean was out there, fighting still, and he'd got the message, but he was sad because it was Cas working with Dean and not him. It made him feel a pang of hurt to know that he had been replaced, but he knew it was for the best. It wasn't like he was going to be back in the game anytime soon.

He slammed the laptop shut and strode back to the bed. Perching on the edge, he settled down to wait for Lucifer's return.

The shadows lengthened and the sun sank and still Sam waited. When full dark came, Sam got to his feet and grabbed his jacket. If he hurried, he could get to the liquor store before it closed.

* * *

Lucifer hated being delayed, but raising horsemen took a lot more work that you would imagine, even for him.

It was two weeks after he left Sam in the hotel that he returned, though to him it felt much longer. He had been frustrated by all the delays and he'd wanted to get back to Sam. Finally, after days of facilitating the horseman's whims and needs, he was free to return.

He was surprised to see Meg standing outside Sam's room when he arrived in the early hours of the morning.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you bothering him again, Meg?"

Meg shook her head. "I'm just making sure he doesn't go for a stroll in his shorts again."

Lucifer looked confused. "A stroll in his what?"

"Boxer shorts," she said casually. "He got it into his head a couple of nights ago that he needed air. He forgot to dress himself first, though."

Lucifer rubbed a hand over his face. "Why do I get the feeling I am missing something vital here?"

Meg gave him a truncated account of what Sam had been doing for the last two weeks, including the alcohol binges, picking fights with demons, and his lack of personal hygiene—that seemed to bother Meg more than anything.

Lucifer frowned as he listened. "Why would he do this?" he asked.

"It looked to me like he was having what humans call a nervous breakdown. He was never been the most stable of people."

Lucifer ignored the slight criticism of Sam. He thought she might have a point.

"Very well," he said. "I shall go to him."

Lucifer opened the door and stepped inside. What he saw shocked him. It stopped him dead in his tracks. Sam was perched against the headboard of the unmade bed. The room was filled with empty bottles of various liquors, predominantly whiskey. Lucifer's nose wrinkled as he smelled the air. He now knew what Meg was talking about when she mentioned his personal hygiene. The room smelled like old whiskey and sick. Somehow, Sam had managed to take the luxurious room and lower it to the standards of the motel they had recently vacated.

Sam was in pajama pants and a dirty white tee, a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He looked over to Lucifer and blinked.

Lucifer studied him for a moment. His beard was unshaven and his hair was unwashed and hanging in strings around his face.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Sam said, tipping his bottle back and taking swig.

"Sam," Lucifer greeted with a nod. "I see you have found a way to pass the time."

Sam hiccupped and took another drink. "Yep."

Lucifer tilted his head to the side. "I think you have had more than enough alcohol for one day."

Sam laughed. "Well, how does it feel to be wrong?" He took another drink.

Lucifer shook his head. There was something almost endearing about a drunk Sam.

"I am merely trying to help you, Sam."

"Maybe I don't want help. Maybe I just want to forget."

"Forget what?"

Sam swirled the contents of the bottle, watching it as he did. He looked up at Lucifer. "Maybe I just want to forget it all."

Lucifer nodded. "I'm sorry you feel that way. May I ask what happened to bring you to this state?"

Sam swallowed and hiccupped again. "Their funeral was last week."

Lucifer's brow furrowed and he tried to think. He was not sure who… and then it hit him. Sam was talking about the Miller family. He was talking about Sarah. It all began to made sense.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Lucifer said as he walked to the bed and took a seat beside Sam. "That must have been difficult for you."

Sam went to take another swig of whiskey but Lucifer reached out and placed his hand on Sam's, stopping him. "No more, Sam."

Sam paused and looked down at Lucifer's hand. An unreadable expression crossed Sam features and then it was gone. He shook off Lucifer's hand as if it burned him, and Lucifer couldn't help but feel a pang of hurt at the loss of contact. Sam didn't take another drink, though, which Lucifer was thankful for, as he could tell Sam had already had way too much.

Sam looked down at his hands, which were both now clutching the bottle. "Where were you?"

"Not far. I told you, I am always only a prayer away. Why didn't you call for me?"

Sam shrugged, eyes downcast. "I thought I could handle it. I thought… I guess I was wrong."

"You thought what, Sam?"

"I thought you would come back, but you didn't."

Sam's words hurt Lucifer. He regretted being gone so long, especially now that it was clear that Sam needed him. "I'm here now," he said, hoping his words would bring comfort to Sam.

Sam nodded and looked up at him. "Yeah, I guess." He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "I just… I felt so alone. It was the first time since Dean died that I've felt so… empty. I killed that family, Lucifer. Maybe not with my own hands, but I put them all in that car. My actions, no one else's."

Lucifer wished there was something he could say to soothe Sam, but he fell short. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. You tried to get me out of there."

Lucifer looked at Sam and saw the wetness forming in his eyes.

"It's not fair," Sam said.

"No it's not." Lucifer took the bottle from Sam's grasp and set it down on the nightstand. "But you can't lose yourself to the pain like this. Think of Dean. Think of your family. You have so much, and yet you don't see it."

A tear trickled down Sam's cheek and he sniffled. "It hurts."

"I know, Sam. I understand," Lucifer said softly. "Why don't you go shower and change? You'll feel better for it."

Sam wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded. Lucifer stood and watched as Sam pushed himself from the bed to stand on wobbly legs. He made his way to the bathroom and closed the door.

Lucifer took a deep breath and sighed, looking around the room. He had his work cut out for him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Castiel took them back to Canton after they'd exhausted the hunt for Jesse Turner, and they picked up the Impala. Castiel had things to attend to, so Dean drove back to Bobby's alone. It was a strange and solitary journey, and more than once, he found his eyes drifting to the empty passenger seat. He wondered how Sam was and what he was doing. When he got back to Bobby's place, he would have pages to catch up on. He looked forward to reading them, as they were the only connection to his brother that he had.

It was dawn when he pulled into the scrap yard, and as he climbed from the car, Castiel appeared beside him. "Dean," he said in his familiar dry tone.

"Cas." Dean nodded. "You get your business done with?"

Castiel frowned. "Not to any productive degree."

"What were you doing?"

"I am still committed to the search for my father," Castiel said.

Dean felt a pang of guilt. Castiel had been on the hunt for God when Sam went to Lucifer. He was ashamed to say he hadn't given it a moment's thought since.

"Cas, man, I'm sorry," he said. "We've been keeping you from that..."

"It is okay," Castiel said. "Sam's capture and subsequent imprisonment have taken priority, even for me, but in the times that you do not need me, I shall continue my hunt. If my father can be found, he may be the key to freeing Sam, too."

Dean nodded thoughtfully as he let himself into the house. "Thanks, Cas."

Though it was early, there was the scent of coffee in the air, and the sound of pounding keys as they opened the door. Bobby called out a greeting to them, and Chuck nodded from his position at the keyboard.

"You're up and about early," Dean said.

"I was woken by hammer-fingers over there," Bobby said grumpily.

"I'm sorry," Chuck said, not sounding remotely repentant.

Dean helped himself to coffee, and then he picked up the pages that were sat by the printer from the previous days. "You read these?" he asked Bobby.

Bobby shook his head. "Chuck gave me the highlights. I figured you'd want to be the first."

Dean appreciated the thought. It seemed petty, but he wanted to be the first, well, second including Chuck, person to know how Sam was. He felt that it was his right as a brother. He started to read.

He was amused that Sam was caught off guard by the Devil when he stepped out of the shower. The fact that Sam blushed made him laugh. It may be the Devil doing it, but anyone that can get a blush out of Sam was worth recognizing.

He actually stopped reading mid-sentence and turned to Chuck when he read about Sam encouraging Lucifer to eat.

"Seriously, Chuck?"

"I have told you before," Chuck said tiredly, "I don't control them. I merely transcribe it. Sam evidently decided that Lucifer needed this experience."

"Yeah, but eating..."

"I have not tried it," Castiel said thoughtfully. "Why have I never tried it?"

"We'll cook you up some eggs and bacon as soon as we're done here," Dean said distractedly, and then he continued to read. Before he got to the section of Lucifer eating, he reached a more painful part of Sam's day. "'_I just wish something would make sense. Everything has been so confusing lately. I don't know. It's just a lot, I guess. I miss Dean. I miss Bobby. I miss my life.'_"

Bobby looked up at Dean and a moment of unspoken communication passed between them. They were both thinking the same thing: they missed him, too.

Dean cleared his throat and continued down the page. "_Lucifer watched Sam for a moment and then brought his fork down to the stack of pancakes in front of him. Slowly, he brought a forkful of pancake up to his mouth, and with one last look down at it, he brought it to his mouth. Sam had to repress a laugh as he watched the Devil. He was making the process of eating seem painful."_ Dean paused to chuckle. "Maybe you don't want to try eating after all, Cas."

Castiel nodded. "These pages are not only informative, they are also amusing. It is a testament to your brother's character that he can persuade Lucifer to eat."

"Yeah," Dean said thoughtfully. "What's up with that? Why would he bother?"

"As he said in the pages, Sam is special," Chuck said cryptically.

"You going to explain that at all?" Dean asked.

Chuck shook his head. "No. You might want to get on with reading." That said, he turned his attention back to the computer and began hammering away at the keys again.

When Dean came to the discussion of Lucifer's fall from grace, he stopped for a moment to look at Castiel. _"Lucifer stiffened."You are asking me how it felt to be cast out of heaven?" Sam nodded. Part of him wanted to retract the question, to remove the look of anguish from Lucifer's face. But another, more dominant part of him, wanted to know the answer. "Painful," Lucifer said softly. "Not merely physically, but emotionally. I did not just fall as your friend Castiel did, I was cast out. My brother, my beloved family, sent me away and left me to rot. I was so angry." His hands fisted on the tabletop. "Furious that they had all chosen your kind over me. Imagine your brother choosing an ant over you, and you can come close to understanding my confusion.'"_

Castiel looked only mildly interested, and Dean bit back the question of whether or not it was painful for him.

Dean read Sam's reaction and a huge part of him wished Sam was there just so he could shake some sense into him. What the hell was Sam thinking feeling sympathetic towards the Devil? Why would he want to comfort him? It got worse as he continued reading and saw that Sam was falling into the Devil's trap and thinking that Lucifer genuinely cared for him. It was ridiculous.

Dean felt a wave of some painful emotion as Sam recited his first memory. He didn't know Sam remembered that day. He was right; it was a bad memory for Dean, as his father had been spitting mad when he came home to find Sam had bust his lip open under Dean's watch.

The hardest part of the pages came next, the news of the family's death. Dean felt a pang of hurt as Sam reacted to the news and he turned to Castiel. "Did you know this would happen?"

Castiel shook his head. "I've had little contact with reapers before. I thought there would be a price to pay for what Sam did, but I did not expect it to be this."

Dean frowned. This was the last thing Sam needed on his conscience.

"Is there anything more in here?" Dean asked Chuck.

Chuck shook his head. "Nothing important. Sam will spend the rest of the day feeling pretty low and Lucifer will do his best to cheer him up."

Dean moved onto the next day's pages. It seemed an ordinary day until Lucifer announced that he was leaving. Dean was torn between relief that Sam would have some space from the Devil and worry that whatever Lucifer was leaving for was going to cause problems for the rest of the world.

He skimmed through the pages, breaking into laughter at the waitress's inept attempts at flirting. He howled when he read her misunderstanding the relationship with Sam and Lucifer. The idea that they could possibly be a couple amused him so much that it took a few minutes for him to calm himself down.

He read as Sam returned to the hotel and searches for signs of Lucifer on the laptop and found nothing. He read the last of the page aloud.

_"Thoughts of the little girl, Sarah, and her family swept through his mind. It was all his fault. That was the fact his mind kept returning to. If he hadn't interfered, only one person would have died that day. It would have been tragic, but not as bad as the entire family losing their lives. He threw himself down on the bed and covered his face with his arm. Feeling alone and with nothing left to do, he curled up on the bed and closed his eyes. Sleep didn't find him easily though and he spent most of his first night alone wrestling with nightmares. He woke more than once in a cold sweat."_

Dean looked to Chuck. "That's it? He is just going to sleep the rest of the day away?"

Chuck nodded somberly. "I think Lucifer's absence and memories of the young girl have soured Sam's mood enough that he prefers sleep at the moment."

Dean frowned. That didn't sound like his brother at all. Sam hated sitting around with nothing to do and would never waste a day sleeping while there was something he could be doing. Then it occurred to Dean that there was nothing else Sam could be doing. Without even the Devil there for company, he had nothing.

"You got something for today?" Dean asked Chuck.

Chuck nodded. "Give me a sec." He pounded a couple more keys and the printer began spitting out pages. As Dean reached for them, Chuck cleared his throat. "Sam has a message for you."

Dean merely looked his confusion.

"Sam knows that I am watching him for you, and he used the connection to communicate."

Dean grins. "Sneaky son of a bitch. Why didn't we think of this before?"

"The connection only works one way," Chuck said. "We have no way of getting messages to him, but he can communicate with us."

"Well, what did he say?" Bobby asked eagerly.

"He has found what he believes to be a werewolf hunt in Bloomington, Indiana."

"And?" Dean prompts.

"And he said he is okay."

"That's it?" Dean sounded disappointed.

"What were you hoping for?" Bobby asked. "A secret outline of Lucifer's master plan?"

Dean shook his head. "No, I guess not."

"He's done the best he can with what he has," Bobby said doggedly.

"I know that," Dean said defensively. "I was just hoping for... I don't know. He said he's okay, but reading through these pages it's obvious that he's not remotely okay."

Bobby scrubbed a hand through his beard. "I think he's doing as well as we can hope given the circumstances. Now, are you going to get on with those pages or should I read?"

Dean shuffled the pages and cleared his throat before he began reading.

"_As he lay there with the pillow over his head, acting much like a child, he realized he needed to do something. He couldn't just waste his time doing nothing when everyone else around him was fighting, for good or bad. Knowing Chuck was watching, and therefore Dean, he pushed himself up out of bed and prepared for another day,"_

Dean was glad that Sam was aware that what's he was doing was unhealthy, and he was pleased when Sam got up and showered. He was impressed that Sam was thinking of him and hunting despite his captivity, and when he read Sam's research into the hunt aloud, Bobby cleared his throat.

"I had Chuck look it up for you. It definitely sounds like a werewolf."

Dean nodded. "Gotcha. I'll hit the hay for a few hours and then Cas and I will head out to Indiana. That okay, Cas, or do you need to be getting on with the God hunt?"

Castiel looked thoughtful for a moment. "I will use the time you are resting to search and then I can, with good conscience, aid you in the defeat of the werewolf."

Dean nodded his satisfaction. He could to take down a werewolf alone, he had done it before, but he liked hunting with Castiel, and it made things move faster.

He skimmed through the rest of Sam's day, which was mainly spent searching for Lucifer on the laptop without success. He was satisfied as he came to the last page to see that Sam was eating and taking care of himself the best he could in a crappy situation.

"Okay," he said. "I'm going to get a few hours sleep then I can head out."

"You might want to try eating something, too," Bobby said. "Sam's not the only one that needs to take care of himself.

Dean nodded. "I will. I need sleep more right now, though."

Dean plodded up the stairs and threw himself down on the bed. He was asleep within minutes, but his dreams were not peaceful. He dreamt that he had found Sam somehow, and they were trying to escape, but every time they opened a door, the Devil was behind it calling to Sam to stay. The more he called to Sam, the lighter Sam's grip on Dean's arm was. He could feel Sam slipping away from him and going back to the Devil.

He woke up and jerked upright in bed, gasping. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he tried to calm himself down again. He told himself that it was just a dream, that Sam wasn't slipping away from him, but he didn't get much more sleep that day.

* * *

For a werewolf hunt, it was pretty easy. With a few quick interviews and flashes of the fake fed badges, they were able to track it down. It turned out to be a drifter who was staying in the same motel as they were. They caught him on the last night of the cycle, and Dean put him away with a bullet to the heart.

Travelling with Castiel cut down on hours spent driving, and they were back at Bobby's that same night.

As they appeared in Bobby's study, Bobby started and slopped coffee down his front.

"Dammit, Cas," he said, wiping at the coffee staining his shirt. "Have you never heard of knocking?"

"I was merely thinking of ease of arrival," Castiel said. "Next time, I shall endeavor to knock."

Dean crossed the room and picked up the stack of pages from beside the printer. "These today's?" he asked.

Bobby rubbed at his beard. "Yeah, you um... you might want to take a break before you throw yourself into that."

Dean frowned. "Has something happened?"

"You might say that," Bobby said.

Chuck walked into the study from the kitchen. "Oh, hey, Dean. You're back," he said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "How was the werewolf hunt?"

"You telling me you didn't see it?" Dean asked then shook his head. "Never mind that, what's the deal with Sam? Bobby said something's happened. Is he okay?"

Chuck nodded. "He's okay. It's just that he... um..."

"Spit it out, Chuck!" Dean snapped.

"He's had some bad news, and he's kinda been drinking," Chuck paused, "a lot."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Sam can't drink. He's a lightweight."

"Someone should tell him that," Chuck said with a nervous laugh.

"It'd be easier if you just read the pages," Bobby said.

Dean snatched them up from the printer tray. He skimmed through the morning's narration of Sam showering and walking to the store and started reading aloud as he reached the important section.

_"It caught Sam off guard when he saw it. It was the second day after Lucifer left. He went to a small convenience store to buy the local paper, thinking it would at least be something to stave off the boredom, when the headline greeted him: __**A TOWN IN MOURNING. **__Below the headline, there was a picture of the smiling family of four. The family whose death he caused. He picked up the paper and skimmed the article. It was announcing the funeral. Seeing the smiling faces represented in black and white affected Sam, and he found himself staring longingly at the array of liquor behind the counter. Without thought, he asked the kid behind the counter for a bottle of Jack Daniel's. The kid raised an eyebrow, probably because of the early hour, but he didn't comment. A few minutes later, Sam was clutching his paper wrapped bottle and hurrying back to the hotel."_

Dean paused and raked a hand through his hair. He could understand Sam's depression at the reminder of the family's death, but he wished Sam would find a better way to deal with it than drinking. It may be the Winchester way—to block out pain with liquor—but it was not usually Sam's way.

He read as Sam worked his way through the bottle and eventually passed out on the bed, clutching the empty liquor bottle.

"Dammit, Sam," he said in a hoarse voice. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't think he is thinking," Chuck said. "That's the problem. Those are yesterday's pages, but there is more of the same today. Sam's in a bad place, and I'm not just talking about his captivity. He is really depressed, and drinking seems to be the only thing he has going on that he can control."

That made sense, Dean thought, but he wished it didn't. He was filled with frustration for the crappy situation. Somewhere, Sam was hurting, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

"Is there anything I should read in today's pages?" he asked.

Chuck shook his head. "Not unless you want to play count the bottles with me."

Bobby whistled. "Is it that bad?"

"I can drink," Chuck said, "but even I would struggle to put away the amount of liquor Sam is going to today."

"Is he going to be okay?" Dean asked. "Physically, I mean? He's not going to get alcohol poisoning or anything is he?"

"Not today," Chuck said. "Tomorrow... who knows?" He shrugged. "I can only see so much."

"If your brother was to fall ill, Lucifer would heal him," Castiel stated.

"I know that, Cas," Dean said irritably. "But I'd still rather he didn't need to."

"We need to keep our heads," Bobby said reasonably. "We can't start sniping at each other."

Dean turned his scowl on him. "That's easy for you to say. It's not your brother drinking himself into a coma."

"You think this is easy for me?" Bobby snapped. "He may not be my blood, but Sam is my boy just as much as you are. I don't want to read about him abusing himself anymore than you do."

Dean knew he should apologize to Bobby, he knew Bobby cared about Sam, too, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. Instead, he stomped out of the house and into the scrap yard. Picking up a tire iron from the toolbox, he vented his frustration on one of the junkers stacked around the house.

His arm swung again and again, pounding metal against metal. He hadn't felt so useless since the days immediately after his father's death. He failed his father then, and he was failing Sam now.

Eventually, muscles burning and back aching, he dropped the tire iron onto the ground and went back to the house. He didn't speak to anyone; he merely picked up the fresh bottle of whiskey from the counter and carried it up to his bedroom.

If Sam was going to drink himself into oblivion, Dean was going to join him.

* * *

Their days fell into an unhappy rhythm. Each morning they congregated in the study and waited for Chuck to give them that day's pages. There was no good news, just more days spent in a haze of alcohol, until the seventh day, the day of Lucifer's expected return. Dean never thought he would be anxious for the Devil's return, but he could see nothing else breaking his brother out of his liquor soaked haze.

That morning, Dean was awake and making coffee when Chuck stumbled into the kitchen.

"Morning," he mumbled as he leaned against the counter waiting for the coffee to brew.

Chuck nodded and sat down at the table. He stretched as the computer loaded and then he started hammering away at the keys.

Dean wanted to ask him about what was happening that day, but he withheld the questions, knowing he would hear soon enough.

When the coffee was brewed, Dean took a mug through to Bobby in the study. Castiel wasn't at the house; Dean assumed he was out on the hunt for his absent father.

Bobby accepted the mug gratefully and nodded towards the kitchen. "Any clues on what we're going to hear today?"

Dean shook his head. "I can't tell you how weird it is for me to be hoping the Devil is back sooner rather than later."

Bobby nodded understandingly. "I know what you mean, boy. I'm the same. I think things will be better for Sam once he is though. I can't see Lucifer letting Sam abuse his body like that."

Castiel returned just as Chuck was printing that day's pages.

Dean snatched the first page up as soon as it was spit out of the printer. He read aloud for the benefit of Bobby and Castiel. _"Sam rolled out of bed around noon the next day. He felt terrible. When he dragged himself into the bathroom and examined himself in the mirror above the sink, he saw that he looked terrible, too. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he sighed. He hadn't let himself get his bad since the weeks after Dean's death. Then, he had spent his days in a haze of alcohol and fury. He thought back over the last seven days and he cursed himself. Chuck would have been privy to every single drink, and unless Sam was blessed with extraordinary luck, Dean would know all about it, too."_ Dean laughed mirthlessly. "Sorry, Sammy, but no, I know all about it."

He skimmed through the narration of Sam's shower and interaction with Meg, but he paused when Sam went to his laptop.

_"He turned on the laptop and searched the police reports from Bloomington to see if there was any sign of Dean taking care of the werewolf. He skimmed through a report and spotted something to make him smile despite the ache of longing it evoked. Agents Shaw and Young from the FBI joined the local law enforcement in the investigation. It had to be Dean and Cas. The thought made him happy and sad in equal measure. He was happy because Dean was out there, fighting still, and he'd got the message, but he was sad because it was Cas working with Dean and not him. It made him feel a pang of hurt to know that he had been replaced, but he knew it was for the best. It wasn't like he was going to be back in the game anytime soon."_

Dean felt a pang of remorse, though he didn't know why. It was not like he had any choice about pairing up with Castiel, and he definitely hadn't replaced Sam. Still the feeling niggled at him. He reached for the next page in the printer tray and read aloud.

"_The shadows lengthened and the sun sank and still Sam waited. When full dark came, Sam got to his feet and grabbed his jacket. If he hurried, he could get to the store before it closed."_

Dean stopped and looked up at Chuck. "Is that it?"

Chuck nodded. "Unless you want another recitation of Sam drinking himself stupid. That's all of note that happens."

"Lucifer doesn't come back?" Bobby asked.

Chuck looked apologetic, though it was no fault of his own. "I don't know why, but he is not coming back today."

Dean sighed and dropped the pages down on the table. "Dammit." They'd all pinned their hopes on Lucifer's return to pull Sam out of his depression, but it wasn't happening today.

"What are we supposed to do?" Dean asked plaintively.

"Do what Sam said," Bobby said. "He told you to keep hunting, so you keep hunting."

Dean scowled. "That was part of a deal. I was supposed to hunt, and he was supposed to stay strong. From what I've read, he's not holding to his end of the deal."

"Sam's got a lot going on at the moment..." Bobby said.

"And I don't?" Dean asked angrily.

"You do, but at least you have your friends with you. Sam is alone, with the guilt of that family's death hanging over his head."

"But it wasn't his fault."

"I know that, and you know that, but apparently Sam doesn't. So, he is drinking himself into a stupor 'cause that's all he can do at the moment. Now, I've nailed down a demon hotspot in Arkansas. You going to go took care of it, or do I have to call on Rufus?"

"I'll do it," Dean said grudgingly. "Cas, you in?"

Castiel stepped away from the wall where he had been standing and silently observing the scene. "Of course."

Bobby nodded his satisfaction. "Good."

* * *

Dean and Castiel were in Texas, hunting down another demon hotspot when Bobby called them in the early hours of the morning. "Chuck just woke me up. The kid's all a quiver about something he saw. I think you guys best get back here."

No sooner than Dean hung up the phone, they were standing on Bobby's front porch. Dean let them into the house and rushed into the study. "What's happening?" he asked Chuck at once.

"Lucifer is returning today," Chuck said.

"About damn time," Dean said, letting out a sigh. "Is Sam okay?"

Chuck nodded. "He will be. I haven't written today's pages yet, but there's a stack there for you."

"Anything in there other than my brother attempting to pickle his liver?"

Chuck laughed. "There was an interesting interaction with a demon I thought you'd enjoy. I highlighted it for you."

Dean flicked through the pages of print until he came to one with a yellow highlighted section, which he read aloud.

"_Sam waited impatiently for Meg to return with the liquor he'd sent her out to get. He started when he heard a knock at the door. Meg never knocked. She just barged in whenever she felt like it. He struggled to his feet and swung open the door. Standing on the threshold was the most unfortunate looking demon Sam had ever seen. He came up to Sam's elbow and he had a round pudgy face. 'Well, aren't you adorable," Sam said. 'I didn't know they made demons in fun-size.' The demon scowled. "And I didn't know humans came in gigantor size.' Sam reached out to pat the demon on the head, but it jumped back. 'I didn't mean to startle you, little fella," Sam said. The demon looked ready to take a swing at Sam. 'I am not here for your amusement," the demon said. 'I come with a warning.' 'Are the Munchkins attacking?" Sam asked. 'No, you buffoon, Lucifer is going to be—' 'Keith!' a woman's voice called out. 'Meg,' Sam said. He was relieved to see her. Not only would she make the tiny, angry man go away, but she had an armful of liquor bottles.'_

Dean stopped reading there and wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. Chuck was beaming back at him, and even Castiel was smiling.

"I've got to give your brother props," Chuck said. "It's the first time I woke from a dream because I was laughing so hard.

It was exactly what they all needed, something light after the last two weeks of depression. Sam was at least a funny drunk rather than a surly one.

Chuck sat down at the computer and started that day's pages. While he worked, Dean made coffee and a sandwich. He had been awake for almost twenty hours straight, and it was beginning to take its toll on him.

When the pages began to stream from the printer, he snatched them up and read hurriedly. Sam was working his way through another bottle of whiskey when Lucifer returned.

"'_Look what the cat dragged in,' Sam said, tipping his bottle back and taking a swig.' Sam,' Lucifer greeted with a nod. 'I see you have found a way to pass the time.' Sam hiccupped and took another drink. 'Yep.' Lucifer tilted his head to the side. 'I think you have had more than enough alcohol for one day.' Sam laughed. 'Well, how does it feel to be wrong?' He took another drink."_

Bobby gaped at Dean. "Is your brother seriously sassing the Devil?"

Dean nodded. "Yep. And it doesn't look like Sam is going to be sobering up anytime soon either."

"He will," Chuck said. "You just need to keep reading."

Dean read Sam and Lucifer's conversation, feeling grateful when Lucifer persuaded Sam to relinquish the bottle, but confused by Sam's apparent grief at the Devil's absence. "'_I thought you would come back, but you didn't.' 'I'm here now,' Lucifer said. Sam nodded and looked up at him. 'Yeah, I guess.' Sam sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. 'I just… I felt so alone. It was the first time since Dean died that I've felt so… empty.'"_

Dean paused and looked at Chuck. "Sam missed Lucifer?"

Chuck nodded. "I don't know the reasoning behind it, but part of this alcohol binge was down to the fact Lucifer wasn't there, and not just because he wasn't there to stop him. I'm sorry, Dean, I know you don't want to hear it, but I don't control what happens. Something is changing, and all we can do is wait and see."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

When Sam woke late the next morning, he was aware he was being watched before he even opened his eyes. He could feel Lucifer's gaze on him. He cracked open an eye and looked over to the corner where the fallen angel was perched on the edge of the desk.

"Good morning, Sam," Lucifer said in a serene tone.

Sam groaned and buried his head deeper into the pillow. "It's not a good morning."

"I imagine it isn't for you. My demons have appraised me on the aftereffects of alcohol. I imagine you are feeling quite unwell at the moment."

"I am." Sam's voice was muffled by the pillow, but Lucifer heard him clearly.

"Would you like me to heal you?"

Sam raised his head slowly and blinked at the angel. "You can do that?"

"I am an angel, Sam. Healing a hangover is the least of my abilities." He stepped closer to the bed and leaned down to touch Sam's temple.

It felt too intimate to Sam, for Lucifer to touch him like that, but as Lucifer's cool fingers made contact with his skin, he ceased to care about intimacy as a rush of warmth passed through him and his headache vanished.

"Thanks," he said, pushing the blankets back and sitting up.

Lucifer smiled. "You are very welcome. Now, what would you like to do today?"

Sam yawned. "Breakfast would be good."

"Of course. Would you like to order something here or would you like to go to the diner?"

Sam considered. If he stayed at the hotel, he had the added benefit of avoiding Shirley, but if he went to the diner, he could perhaps enjoy her attempts at flirting with Lucifer. That should be interesting. Also, he can't remember the last time he left the hotel for anything like fresh air.

"Let's go out."

He got out of bed and headed into the bathroom. When he came out, Lucifer was gone, but Sam knew that he was close by, waiting for him to call him back. He dressed and shoved his feet into his boots and then called to the fallen angel.

"Lucifer."

With a soft fluttering of wings, Lucifer returned and smiled at Sam. "Ready?"

Sam nodded and Lucifer opened the door and gestured for him to go ahead. On the stairs, they passed a short demon, who glared balefully at Sam before catching Lucifer's eye and hurrying away.

Sam took a deep breath of fresh, clean air as they stepped out onto the street. It felt good to be outside again. Now, in the sober light of day, he was able to see just how far he let himself fall in the last two weeks. He thought of Dean and wondered how he'd reacted to seeing Sam in such a mess. Was he angry as Sam blotted out days in a haze of alcohol or did he understand Sam's weakness?

There was no way of knowing, not without speaking to him in person, and he had a feeling that it would be a while before he could speak to him again.

When they reached the diner, Lucifer opened the door for him and then followed Sam inside to the booth they had sat at before.

Sam noticed that the same elderly couple that occupied a table two weeks ago were there again. He nodded to them, and Lucifer followed his gaze. He looked confused.

"It's lesson two in the good of humanity," Sam said with a smile. "Tell me that's a bad thing."

Lucifer watched them for a moment and then shook his head. "I cannot."

Sam grinned. "See? Humanity isn't all bad. There's good stuff if you know where to look."

Lucifer nodded. "Lesson two goes to you, Sam. You are right; I can see nothing to criticize in that scene, except their advanced age, of course. Sooner or later, they will be parted."

Sam rolled his eyes. "But, like you said before, they'll go to a better place, and maybe they can be together there. Besides, we can't all be immortal."

Lucifer looked slightly sad at that observation, as if Sam's words had revealed something to him that he didn't want to know.

Before Sam can ask Lucifer to explain his melancholy, Shirley came out from behind the counter and strutted toward their table.

"Hello again, boys," she said, pushing out her chest. "What can I get you today?"

"I'll have waffles and a coffee, please," Sam said, smiling at her attempts to catch Lucifer's eye.

"And you?" she asked, looking to Lucifer.

"Nothing for me, thank you," Lucifer said.

Her lips pursed into a moue of disappointment. "Are you sure there's nothing I can get you?"

"No, I am quite all right," Lucifer said.

She strutted away from the table, hips swinging, and passed their order through a hatch behind the counter.

Once she was out of earshot, Sam stopped withholding the laughter he had been repressing.

"What was that?" Lucifer asked.

"She likes you," Sam said, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

Lucifer looked at him blankly.

"She finds you attractive, Lucifer."

Lucifer blinked slowly. "Oh."

Sam broke into laughter again. "It's not that strange. Nick is, was, a young guy."

"An attractive guy?" Lucifer asked.

"Apparently," Sam said. "Shirley seemed to think so anyway. She told me she thought you were hot"

Lucifer smiled. "You humans are so strange with your terms. I think I have caught up to them all and then you say something else equally as confusing."

"Hot is a good thing, Lucifer."

Lucifer nodded thoughtfully.

They sit in companionable silence until Shirley came back with Sam's breakfast. As he forked up the waffles and sipped the steaming coffee, Sam watched Lucifer. There was something off about the angel today. It was if he was only half there. The majority of his attention seemed elsewhere.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, as he swallowed the last of his breakfast.

Lucifer started. "I'm sorry?"

Now Sam knew there was something wrong. Angels didn't start. At least he had never seen it before.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Lucifer sighed heavily. "I merely have a lot on my mind today, Sam."

"You want to talk about it?" Sam asked, not quite believing the words until they left his own mouth. He supposed he owed the fallen angel a favor after he healed Sam of his monster hangover.

"Actually, I do," Lucifer said. "But I think it's best that we go back to the hotel. Talk of horsemen is better saved for when we have privacy."

Sam dropped bills down onto the table and waved goodbye to Shirley. She watched them leave with a disappointed expression, and Sam thought that he would be bringing Lucifer back to the diner for lunch, too. It was worth it to see her attempt to flirt with Lucifer.

When they got back in the hotel, Sam sat on the bed, resting his back against the headboard, and Lucifer perched on the edge of the computer desk.

"So," Sam said. "What's up?"

"Famine," Lucifer said.

Sam smiled. "I would have thought running out of food would be the least of your worries."

Lucifer frowned.

"Okay, I was kidding. What's Famine done wrong?"

"He is a posturing pest," Lucifer said, waving his hands in the air. "I have never known anyone like him, and you should have met my brother Gabriel."

Sam chuckled. It was bizarre to think of Lucifer as having brothers. Though he knew Lucifer once had a family, brothers like him, it didn't fit Sam's image of him.

"Really, you should," Lucifer said. "You have never met anyone like him."

Sam marveled at the direction their conversation had taken. The fact it was a civil conversation at all was strange. He, a hunter wanting nothing more than to thwart his plans, was having a chat with the Devil about his errant brothers. Sam almost wanted to reciprocate with a story about Dean, but he didn't. He knew Dean would be privy to this conversation via Chuck and it would annoy him.

"So, Famine," Sam said. "What's with the posturing? He does realize who you are, right?"

Lucifer rested his palms on the edge of the desk and thrummed his fingers against the wood. "As the least useful horseman, he is the most aggravating. He is a physical wreck, which is something to do with you humans, I don't really know or care what. The problem is that he is also a demanding wreck."

"What's he demanding?" Sam asked curiously.

Lucifer frowned. "I know what you are doing, Sam. I know you are attempting to work against me. Nothing I can tell you of Famine will aid you in my defeat,"

Sam was stunned. He hadn't been thinking about defeating Lucifer at all when he initiated the conversation. He'd just wanted to know who or what was powerful enough to irk Lucifer. He _should_ have been thinking of defeating him, though. And he was angry with himself for letting that fall by the wayside. He thought of Dean and Bobby, and he felt a pang of guilt. They were fighting while he was laughing it up with Lucifer. What was he thinking?

"You're upset," Lucifer stated. "Why?"

"Would you believe that I wasn't thinking of your defeat when I asked?"

Lucifer nodded. "If you tell me you weren't, I will believe you. Is that what's upset you, that I misunderstood?"

Sam shook his head. "No. I'm angry with myself because, for a moment, I forgot."

Lucifer looked at him sympathetically. "I understand. It must be hard for you to see me as a threat all the time when you are forced to see that I am not the monster I am portrayed as." He paused. "How can I help you?"

Sam shrugged. "There's nothing you can do. It's all on me."

"Would you like to hear about Famine?"

Sam smiled. "Sure."

"Well, as I said, he is a demanding horseman. It's incongruous, as he is the least useful of the quartet. There is little he can do for me other than to complete the set."

"But you're keeping him around anyway?" Sam asked.

Lucifer shrugged. "I am a collector, and I like the full set."

Sam laughed. "So what is he demanding?"

"Souls, endless amounts of souls. That's how he sustains himself."

Sam scowled. "How many people are you killing just to complete the set, Lucifer?"

"Killing? None. You can live without a soul, but I wouldn't recommend it. The soul is the truth and being of a person, the conscience. It's what makes you who you are."

"So you've doomed how many people to a life without a soul to please a horseman?"

Lucifer frowned. "Many." He looked like he was going to say more but a knock at the door interrupted him. "Enter," he said loudly.

Meg clicked open the door and poked her head in. "I am sorry to disturb you, but there is someone here to see you."

Lucifer looked stunned and then realization caught up to him. "Famine." It's the closest to an expletive that Sam had ever heard him mutter. He turned to Sam. "I apologize, Sam. I must leave you."

Sam nodded. "Okay."

Lucifer swept out of the room, and Meg clicked the door closed behind her. Sam was alone again. He moved to the desk Lucifer had just vacated and he booted up the laptop. He skimmed through the morning news, finding nothing important, and snapped it closed again.

What he wanted more than anything was to be able to talk to Dean. He felt like he was slipping, and he needed his brother to ground him again. He knew Dean was watching him through Chuck, and he would have seen the conversation between Sam and Lucifer. Dean would know Sam wasn't thinking of the hunt when he questioned Lucifer about Famine. He would be so disappointed in Sam. He wished there was a way to made Dean understand how confusing it was to be so close to the fallen angel and remember who he really was.

Sam got up from the desk and paced the small room. He licked his lips as his mouth began to water. There was something wrong with him. He felt off, almost unwell. He pressed a finger to his throat and felt his pulse racing through his veins. He was about to call to Lucifer when the sound reached him. It was a steady thudding, but it was not the sound of his own heart he could hear beating in his chest, it was someone else's.

The door clicked open, and Meg stuck her head around again. "Sorry to disturb"—the scathing tone she used obliviated any effect of her polite words—"but Lucifer asked me to tell you he is going to be delayed in returning to you and he apologizes."

"I need to see him," Sam said hoarsely.

"Well, tough luck, Winchester," she said. "He is busy with people that actually matter."

Sam felt the tremors starting in his hands, and he hugged his arms around himself. It was coming, and it was coming on strong. He felt the need burning in him. He hadn't felt it this bad since those wretched days in the panic room.

"What's wrong with you?" Meg asked, and then she smiled. "You can feel it, can't you? What does precious Sammy Winchester hunger for, huh?"

"Get out of here, bitch," Sam spat.

"Language," she chided, and then her eyes widened. "Of course. It's the blood, right? I bet I smell pretty good right now, don't I?"

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. "Lucifer, I need you!"

Meg laughed. "You think he can help you? You're dead wrong. You're going to have to suffer through this—"

"That's enough!" a harsh voice said.

Sam looked up and saw Lucifer standing at the door. "You can leave us now, Meg," he said. She scurried away and he called after her. "But we shall be speaking about this later."

If Sam wasn't distracted by holding himself together, he would have been amused to hear her sharp squeak of alarm. As it was, it was all he could do not to run after her and attempt to drain her dry.

"Sam, calm down," Lucifer said gently.

"I think it got to me. I think I'm hungry for it..."

"Hungry for what?" Lucifer asked.

Sam lowered his head. "You know."

Lucifer sighed. "Demon blood?"

Sam nodded jerkily. "I can feel it."

"I am sorry, Sam. He was never supposed to be brought near you."

Sam laughed shakily. "Didn't quite work out, did it? What am I supposed to do? I'm a demon blood junkie in a hotel full of demons."

"I will send them away," Lucifer said at once. "Can you hold it together a little longer? I must send Famine away. Perhaps if he is not so close, the need won't be as great."

Sam nodded jerkily, still hugging his arms around himself. "I can try."

Lucifer reached out as if to touch him and then he pulled back his hand. "Stay strong, Sam."

He left the room and Sam dropped down into his knees. 'Stay strong, Sam.' It was exactly what Dean would have said if he was there, and Sam had never needed his brother more. He needed Dean to hold him back and take care of him like he always did, as he could feel himself slipping.

He could hear the footsteps moving up and down the hall, and he knew that it was demons moving around out there. Demons that were walking up and down with their veins pulsing with the nectar that was demon blood. Nectar... There was no other word for it; the way it tasted and the way it made him feel...

"Dean," he moaned. "I need you." He knew Dean couldn't hear him, but he needed to say it. Just saying his brother's name gave him strength. He mumbled it as a litany as he bowed his head down until his forehead was touching the floor.

Then it happened. It was too much. The wave of desire that ripped through him was too much to handle. Famine was affecting him more than ever before, and he found himself on his feet. He crossed the room and rooted through his duffel. Pulling out the knife, he stared at its clean edge.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he said to the empty room, and then he forced all thought of his brother from his mind and focused on getting what he needed.

The hall had fallen silent now, there was no movement, but Sam didn't need it. He could hear the pounding hearts behind the closed doors and he selected one where there was only one demon inside. He didn't want to have to fight too hard. He wanted the blood fast. Once he was strengthened, he could pin the others in place as he fed. It would be so easy.

The door clicked open and he saw a short, male demon sitting on the edge of the bed. Casa Erotica was playing on the television, and the demon looked up and started as Sam entered.

"What do you want?" it asked.

"You," Sam said simply and lunged forward with the knife held aloft.

Sam shouldn't have been able to overpower the demon so easily, but Lucifer's orders were like a gag on the demon's strength. Instead of fighting back, he called out for help.

The knife cut through the air and found its mark on the demon's neck. It sliced through the skin and warm, pulsating blood followed.

The first mouthful was exquisite. It filled Sam's mouth and flowed down his throat. The rich taste of it brought Sam's taste buds to life and he groaned his satisfaction. Then came the rush. The heady feeling of contentment and power that nothing on earth could compare to. Sam was invincible. He was fed. He was sated.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Lucifer stormed down the stairs and into the lobby. He was incensed by the horseman's nerve. How dare he come to him here when he was under strict instructions to stay away? Lucifer didn't want the horseman anywhere near Sam. Now, because of this damned man, Sam was suffering.

"I told you not to come here," he said brutally as he stepped up to face the man.

Famine was a wreck. He was confined to a wheelchair and dependant on demons for all his many needs, but the one thing he had held onto was his pride. "I needed to see you," he said.

Lucifer shook his head. "You could have got a message to me and I would have come to you."

Famine shook his head. "Not good enough."

Suddenly, there was a shout from up the stairs. Lucifer's head snapped to the right and fear gripped him. It was Sam, he could feel it, but he didn't know what was happening. He raced up the stairs and followed the shouts to an open door on the corridor. He came to an abrupt halt as he set eyes on the scene in the room.

Sam was kneeling on the floor, bowed over a demon. The demon was struggling, but Sam's strength overpowered him. Sam's mouth was pressed against a wound on the demon's throat, and he was sucking at the blood and gulping it down.

"Sam," Lucifer said in a sigh.

Sam raised his head, and Lucifer saw the blood smeared around his mouth.

"Mine," he said in a growl.

Lucifer raised his hands. "It's yours, Sam. No one is going to take it from you."

Sam bowed his head over the demon once again, and Lucifer watched as he took the foul blood into himself.

Eventually, Sam rose from the demon. "I want more."

Lucifer looked sad. "But do you _need _it?" He knew he couldn't allow Sam to run amok through the hotel, sating his need. Sam wouldn't want that, not the real Sam. In that moment, he was overpowered with bloodlust and longing, but when he came back to his rational mind, Lucifer knew he would be sickened by what he had done.

There was movement at the door, and Sam stiffened. Meg was standing there, looking in.

"Do you need help?" she asked.

Lucifer shook his head. "No, we will be—"

It was too late; Sam was already in action. Fixing his eyes on Meg, he raised a hand and his face contorted with effort.

"Lucifer!" Meg said desperately, wanting assistance.

Lucifer merely watched as Sam's features twisted and he fisted a hand. Black smoke poured from Meg's mouth. The human Meg was possessing fell to the ground as the last of Meg left her. She was dead.

Sam looked satisfied. "I have wanted to do that for so long."

"Yes, I'm sure it was a relief," Lucifer said conversationally. "Now, how are you feeling?"

"I still want it," Sam said, as his bright eyes searched the room.

Lucifer nodded. "Come with me."

Sam followed dutifully. Lucifer led him to another room where there were three large jugs of blood on the table. They were there for Lucifer, but they would satisfy Sam for a while at least.

As soon as Sam caught sight of the jugs of blood, he fell on them. Taking one, he raised it to his lips and poured the blood down his throat. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Lucifer watched him sadly, knowing what he was seeing now was going to be so much worse soon.

As Sam drained the last jug, he turned to Lucifer. His eyes had lost their unnatural brightness and he looked scared. "Lucifer, help me," he pleaded. "I can't... I can't do this."

Lucifer stepped forward and placed a hand on Sam's arm. "What do you need?"

"More blood," Sam said at once and then shook his head. "No, I can't... I need you to make it stop. He has to stop affecting me. I'm losing myself."

There was desperation in Sam's eyes and voice, and Lucifer knew that Sam was hanging by a thread. One step in either direction and the Sam he knew would be lost.

It was for that reason, and that reason alone, that he ran from the room and down the stairs into the lobby.

Famine was smiling his satisfaction. "Did your friend enjoy himself?" he asked.

Rage flooded Lucifer, and his eyes fixed on the silver ring on Famine's finger. The light glinted off of the black stone. Without conscious thought, Lucifer snapped out a hand and gripped Famine's wrist. "Take it back now," he hissed.

"I cannot," Famine said and laughed.

It was the laugh that did it. It incensed Lucifer, and he was in motion before he realized it. Snapping his wrist, his blade fell into his grip, and he brought it down in a fell swoop. Famine's hand fell to the floor with a soft thud and Lucifer snatched it up. He wrestled the ring from the finger and tossed the hand back to land in Famine's lap. Famine was howling and cradling his bloody stump in his other hand.

"Take him away," Lucifer said to the demons that had accompanied Famine to the hotel, "and never bring him back here."

Lucifer materialized back in the room where he left Sam, and he knew immediately that Famine's power had left Sam. He was sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest and his head buried against his knees. He was rocking subtly and murmuring to himself.

"Are you okay, Sam?" Lucifer asked softly.

Sam shook his head but didn't look up.

Lucifer knelt beside him and laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "What can I do?"

"I need Dean," Sam said plaintively. "Please let me call Dean."

There was little Sam can ask while looking that desperate that Lucifer could deny him, and something as simple as a phone call was the least he could do.

"Of course," he said. He took the phone from his pocket and handed it to Sam.

Sam dialed with shaky fingers.

"Sammy?"

Sam draws a shaky breath. "Dean... I'm sorry."

"Jesus, Sam, don't say that. It's not your fault."

"I tried, man. I really tried."

"I know, buddy. Just take it easy. Things are going to get worse before they get better."

"I don't think I can do it again," Sam said desperately.

"As much as I hate to say it, Lucifer is there with you. Let him help you. I know you can do it. I know you're stronger than you think."

Sam looked up at Lucifer, searching for reassurance.

Lucifer nodded. "I will help you."

"I'm scared, Dean," Sam said. "I'm scared of what I'll see."

"Just remember it's not real, Sam. Whatever you see, it's not real. It's going to be okay."

"I wish you were here."

"You can do this, Sammy. Just hang on a little longer, okay? If I could be there, I would."

"I know." Sam sighed. "I can do this." He was speaking more to himself than Dean or Lucifer, but Lucifer nodded his agreement.

"That's right, Sam," Dean said firmly. "You can and you will. I have faith in you."

Lucifer held out a hand for the phone and Sam handed it over. "Dean," Lucifer said in his gentlest tone.

"Lucifer."

"I know you have a low opinion of me, but trust me when I say I will do all I can to see Sam through this."

"I don't have any other choice, do I? You're all Sam's got."

"I will take care of him, Dean," Lucifer said and then ended the call. He had spent all his patience for brash hunters already.

Sam looked up at him. "Thank you for that."

"I meant what I said, Sam," Lucifer said. "I brought this upon you, and I will aid you through it any way I can."

"Is there anything you can do? Like angel mojo the blood out of me?"

Lucifer frowned. "You don't know how much I wish I could, but I don't think I will be able to."

Sam sighed and rested his head against his knees again.

"Come on," Lucifer said. "Let's get you cleaned up while we can. Then we can make you comfortable."

* * *

Sam allowed himself to be led to his room. Lucifer walked him to the bedroom and left him at the bathroom with a whispered, "When you need me, call."

Sam turned on the shower and stripped off his bloody clothes, tossing them into a corner. He didn't want them cleaned, he wanted them burned.

He stepped under the hot spray, and the water ran pink as the blood was washed off him. He scrubbed at his skin, as if by removing the blood he could remove the taint of it, too. He could still feel the blood rushing through his veins, making him feel alive and powerful. He hated the feeling. He hated his weakness in drinking again. Intellectually, he knew it wasn't his fault, Famine was on his doorstep, he was doomed from the moment Lucifer decided to raise him, but it still felt like his fault.

When the water ran clear and his skin tingled from where his nails had scraped the skin, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He went into the bedroom and found some clean clothes in his duffel. He was dressing for comfort, so he picked out a white tank and sweatshirt with a pair of sweats.

When he was dressed, he sat on the bed, resting his back against the headboard and drawing his knees up to his chest.

"Lucifer," he said softly.

Within moments, the fallen angel was there, looking across at him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

Sam shrugged. "I'm coming down now. I can feel it."

"How long before...?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. Last time I was in the panic room, and there's no way to gauge time in there. It won't be for a while at least."

Lucifer nodded and sat down on the bed. He twisted and crossed his legs in front of him so he was sitting facing Sam. "Is there anything you need?" he asked.

Sam shook his head. "No, thanks."

"Nothing to eat?"

"The less I eat now, the less I will lose later," Sam said tonelessly. "Nausea is a big part of the withdrawal."

Lucifer's brow creased. "I wish there was a way to spare you from this."

"You and me both," Sam said. He shook his head. "Never mind."

"You said nausea was a part of it. What else should I expect?"

"Headaches, fever, hallucinations, seizures..." Sam trailed off. "Last time, I thought I was being tortured by Alastair."

Lucifer frowned. "That must have been unpleasant."

Sam huffed a laugh. "Imagine someone slicing you up and presenting you with your intestines to admire. _That_ is how unpleasant it can be."

"I wish there was something I could do to protect you from this."

"Just don't let me hurt anyone," Sam said. "Please. I will probably do and say some shady stuff. Whatever you do, don't let me call Dean."

Confusion creased Lucifer's brow. "You wish for me to keep you from your brother?"

Sam nodded firmly. "He doesn't need to hear it. It's bad enough that he is reading about it."

Lucifer nodded. "Ah yes, your friend Chuck. It's an interesting arrangement you have with him."

"How did you know?" Sam asked.

"I overheard some chatter," Lucifer said. "It seems my brother Raphael is assigned to his protection. He is most displeased at the moment."

Sam chuckled. "I bet he is."

"Yes, as one of my more infuriating brothers, it amuses me to have him so distressed. It seems you Winchesters have a way with inciting powerful emotions in angels."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it's one of our many talents."

"You are a talented pair," Lucifer said. "You especially."

Sam looked up. "Me?"

"Yes, Sam," Lucifer said patiently. "You do remember exorcising Meg, don't you?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I feel like I should probably apologize for that."

"But you wouldn't mean it," Lucifer finished for him.

Sam shook his head. "I have wanted to do that for a long time. I owed it to Bobby. I just wish I'd had the juice to kill her."

They fall into companionable silence for a while, which Sam breaks.

"Where is Famine now? You didn't tell me how you stopped him."

Lucifer smiled. "I took a leaf out of the Winchester book and cut off his hand." He pulled the ring from his pocket and turned it over in his hand. "He is useless to me now, of course, but I think it was worth it."

"But you won't have the full set," Sam said with a smile.

"It's no matter," Lucifer said lightly. "He was more trouble than he was worth, and it's not like he was ever particularly useful."

"Good to hear," Sam said, running a hand through his hair.

"Are you okay?" Lucifer asked.

Sam shook his head. "It's not withdrawal, not yet anyway. It's just that I'm coming down from the high, and that's never a pleasant process."

"How does it feel?" Lucifer asked.

Sam considered the question for a moment. "Like I'm getting the flu. My stomach is churning and I can feel the tremors coming."

"Shall we see if there is something I can do to aid that?" Lucifer asked.

"Please," Sam said.

Lucifer leaned forward and touched Sam's hand gently. Sam felt the warmth rush through him, but there was no relief from the nausea.

Lucifer sat back, looking disappointed.

"It's okay," Sam said. "I appreciate you trying. Besides, it's no more than I deserve. I did this to myself."

"You didn't, Sam. It wasn't your fault."

"Maybe not this time, but I am the one that got myself hooked on the blood in the first place."

"Why did you?" Lucifer asked.

Sam frowned. "It was Lilith. After Dean died, I focused everything I had on taking her out, but it wasn't working. I was working with my powers, exorcising demons, but every time the hosts died. Ruby said it was because I was being too slow, they suffered too much. She told me I had to be stronger, faster, if I was ever going to defeat Lilith. She brought me something in a hip flask, telling me it would help." He paused for a moment and licked his lips. "You've got to understand where my head was at the time. I had buried my brother a couple of months ago, and all I could think of was revenge. So, I took the flask and I drank. I knew the second it touched my tongue what it was, and you'd think that would stop me, but it didn't. It was like an electric shock. Power raced through me, and I knew it was the only way I was ever going to be strong enough for Lilith." He raked a shaky hand through his hair. "I told myself it was all for Dean, but deep down I knew the truth. I was doing it because it made me feel good."

"You can't blame yourself for that, Sam. You're only human."

"That's no excuse for what I did."

Lucifer sighed. "You refuse to accept comfort, and yet you deserve it. You were weak, Sam. People are weak sometimes. Eve ate the apple, after all."

Sam nodded. "I think I'd like to sleep now, Lucifer. Can you help me?"

Lucifer nodded and got to his feet. Sam curled up on his side, and Lucifer pressed his fingertips to Sam's temple.

Peaceful oblivion washed through Sam, and soon he was fast asleep, oblivious to the fallen angel watching over him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

It started late the next day. Sam was asleep still, cosseted under Lucifer's influence, when the tremors started. They woke him, and he looked around the room blearily.

"Lucifer?" he said softly.

"I am here."

Sam turned and saw Lucifer sitting on the edge of the bed. He was looking at Sam sympathetically.

"It's starting," Sam said, the quaver in his voice betraying his fear.

Lucifer nodded. "I am here for you, Sam."

Sam pushed himself to a sitting position and rested back against the headboard. "I can do this," he whispered to himself.

The tremors rocked through him, making the headboard rattle. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was trying to calm himself down, as he knew his anxiety was making it worse, but the fear of what was to came gripped him and made calm seem impossible.

He felt the nausea roll in his stomach, and he jumped from the bed and raced into the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet before his stomach heaved and he vomited. He clutched the cool porcelain, letting it soothe his overheated skin.

"Can I do anything?" Lucifer asked.

"Water," Sam croaked.

Lucifer filled a cup at the faucet, and he knelt beside Sam and handed him the glass. He rested his hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam felt the cool touch on him, but he didn't brush it away. It was comforting in its coolness; it leeched some of the fever from him. He drank the glass of water and then almost immediately lost it down the toilet.

Lucifer sighed. "More?"

Sam shook his head. "No point."

When he thought the nausea had passed, he got to his feet and brushed his teeth to remove the foul taste.

Lucifer watched carefully, as if waiting for something to happen. Sam knew it would. It had been all too easy so far; he knew the worst was yet to come.

Sam stumbled back into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed. He drew his knees up to his chest. Lucifer sat on the other side of the bed, cross-legged, and clasped his hands in his lap.

Sam lay on the bed, tremors rocking his body, wondering when the worst would come, when it did. One moment he was looking at Lucifer's profile, the next the fallen angel turned his head and it was Alastair looking at him.

"Hey, Sammy," he said in his nasal tone. "You miss me?"

Sam jerked upright and threw himself off the bed. He skittered across the floor, backing himself into a corner with his knees drawn up to his chest.

Alastair pulled a scalpel from his shirt pocket. "Oh the fun we will have," he said, admiring the blade.

Sam buried his head in his hands and he screamed.

* * *

Lucifer stepped forward slowly so as not to startle Sam any further. Sam was curled up in the corner whimpering in pain.

"Sam?" Lucifer said, kneeling down beside him. "Sam, can you hear me?"

Sam didn't respond. Wherever he was, he was not in the room with Lucifer. "Whatever you are seeing, Sam, it's not real."

Sam's fists knotted in his hair and he cried out. "No! Please, God, no!"

It broke Lucifer's heart. He wanted to touch Sam, to tell him it was all okay, but he couldn't because it would be a lie. It was not okay, and it was all Lucifer's fault. He brought Famine into being and cursed Sam to this fate.

Sam suddenly pushed himself away from Lucifer and crawled across the floor, trying to get away from the invisible attacker. Lucifer wondered if it was Alastair again. If only he was still alive, Lucifer could seek revenge for the pain he had caused Sam.

* * *

The light assaulted Sam eyes and he cringed back. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying. He needed to get away before Alastair returned. There was a voice coming from behind him, pleading for him to listen, but he couldn't. It was a trick.

He ran for the door and then someone grabbed him, holding him back. "Easy, Sam," the voice said. "It's going to be okay."

"Dean? Where's Dean?" Sam cried. "I need Dean!" He fell to his knees and curled into himself, rocking. "I need my brother."

The voice sighed and a cool hand brushed over his forehead. He turned into the touch. It was soothing against the harshness that was assaulting his senses.

Warmth passed through him and his eyes drifted closed. He slept.

* * *

Lucifer knew his influence wouldn't keep Sam sleeping for long, but even a moment of peace was a blessing for Sam in that moment.

He looked innocent asleep; it was something Lucifer had noticed in the nights he had watched Sam. All the guilt and troubles faded away, and he became a child again.

Lucifer reached out a hand and brushed the hair from Sam's eyes. He leaned into the touch in his sleep, and Lucifer felt a stirring of something in his chest. It was a warm feeling, completely out of place among the dire nature of the immediate situation. He couldn't focus on the feeling for long as Sam's eyes snapped opened again and he screamed.

It was a scream filled with anguish and desperation, and it hurt Lucifer to hear it. He wished there was something he could do for Sam, but all he could do was be there physically, and that felt pointless.

He gripped Sam's hand. "I am here, Sam. You are not alone."

"Dean!" Sam cried.

Lucifer considered fetching Dean for a fraction of a second, to soothe Sam, and then he remembered that Sam made him promise not to let him talk to Dean while he was going through this.

Suddenly, Sam stiffened and looked across the room, as if seeing something other than the blandly decorated wall. His eyes filled with tears and he whispered. "Mom?"

* * *

She was beautiful and ethereal and everything Sam wanted to see, but she was not happy. Her mouth was turned down at the corners and there was a crease between her brows.

"Sam," she said stiffly. "How could you do this?"

Tears filled Sam's eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It was Famine."

"Excuses," she snapped. "You did this to yourself, and you know it. After all I sacrificed for you, you would defile your body again."

Sam hid his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry."

"We trusted you, Sam," she said. "You told Dean you would be strong, but I do not see a strong man in front of me. Do you know what I see? I see a puling child that has destroyed himself and his brother because of his selfishness."

Sam looked up at her. "I didn't mean to..."

"I'm talking!" she said viciously. "That's not all you have done. You have doomed the world because of your idiocy. Lucifer has risen, and as if that wasn't bad enough, you have bound yourself to him."

"To save Dean!" he said. "I thought that was what you would want."

"What I want was a son I can be proud of, not one that falls into Lucifer's traps."

"It's not like that," Sam said. "He's not what you think. Not always."

"All lies," she spat. "He is the master of lies, and you have fallen into each and every one of them."

"Lucifer, help me, please," Sam pleaded.

He felt a cool hand at his brow and his mother vanished.

"Thank you," he sighed.

* * *

Lucifer could see a sheen of sweat covering Sam's brow. He placed his hand on his forehead, and even before he touched it, he could feel the heat radiating from Sam's skin. He was running a fever.

Sam let out a moan and then pushed himself up to his feet. He staggered his way toward the bathroom, Lucifer on his heels. Sam wavered and then nearly fell, but Lucifer was there to catch him. He slipped his arms beneath Sam's from behind and helped lower him to the floor.

"Easy, Sam," he said as Sam tensed and collapsed against the toilet. Lucifer winced in sympathy as Sam began to heave in earnest. It was a painful retching noise broken by Sam's pained whimpers.

Lucifer reached for a washcloth and quickly dampened it in the sink. He folded it and placed it on the back of Sam's neck. He grabbed another and dampened it as well. This time he reached around and wiped Sam's face.

Sam sank back against Lucifer and closed his eyes. "I'm dying."

Lucifer hummed, maneuvering Sam so he was pressed up against him, his head resting against his chest. "You're not dying, Sam. I know it seems bad, but you're doing well."

"It hurts, Lucifer."

Lucifer sighed. "I know, and I wish I could take the pain away."

"Please, Lucifer, let me sleep again. Just for a minute. I can't keep doing this."

"It won't last, Sam."

"Please."

Lucifer nodded and then brought his hand to Sam's temple. A moment later, Sam went lax. Lucifer lifted him into his arms and moved him to the bedroom. He laid him down on the bed and shifted him into what looked like a comfortable position.

Sitting beside Sam, he laid a hand on his forehead to hope to ease the burn of the fever coursing through him.

* * *

When Sam's eyes opened, he was looking up into a smiling face. It was not a friendly face, not Dean or Bobby or even Castiel. It was Ruby's face, and she looked delighted to see Sam again.

"Sam," she said happily. "It's been too long."

Sam tried to flinch away from her, but he found that he was pinned in place. Leather restraints encircled his wrists and ankles, and he was lying spread-eagled on some hard surface.

She drew a knife from behind her back, and Sam recognized it at once. It was the demon blade.

"You see this," she said. "Your brother slid this knife into me, killing me dead. Remember that, Sam?"

Sam stared at her, his eyes wide with terror.

"I asked you a question!" she snapped, striking him across the cheek.

"I remember," Sam said.

"Good. Now, I am going to take this blade, and I am going to show you _exactly_ how it feels. How do you think it will react to all that demon blood rushing through your veins, Sammy? Shall we find out?"

She plunged the knife into Sam's thigh, and he cried out in pain.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" she said, twisting the blade. "I remember."

She ripped the knife out of his flesh, and he could feel the blood soaking the leg of his sweats.

She tapped the blade against her chin. "Now, that wasn't a very successful experiment. I wasn't looking carefully. I need a broader canvas."

She sliced away his sweatshirt and the tank underneath so his chest was laid bare to the cool air.

"This will do."

She didn't plunge the knife in this time. She rested the tip of the blade above his nipple and leaned on it slightly, just breaking the skin. She dragged it across him, creating swirling patterns in his flesh.

Sam cried out in pain and he pleaded for her to stop but she didn't. He felt the blood pooling around him, sticky and warm, and still she sliced at him. Looking down his chest he could see only red as she parted flesh in her own demented stylings.

"Anything to say now, Sam?" she asked. "Do you want to apologize, perhaps?"

Sam gritted his teeth. "Yeah, I'm sorry, sorry I didn't get to kill you myself."

With a shriek of rage, she plunged the knife into his chest, driving it straight through his heart.

* * *

Lucifer knelt down beside Sam, who was curled on the floor, clutching at his chest. He could see from the pallor of his skin and the sweat beading on his forehead that he was not doing well. He had just spent the last five minutes screaming in agony, and there was nothing Lucifer could do to comfort him.

Sam began to gag and choke, and Lucifer quickly slipped a hand under his head, cradling it. "Breathe, Sam," Lucifer commanded. And then he did. It was slow and hitching but he breathed.

"That's it," Lucifer said. "Nice and slow. You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you."

Sam seemed to calm, and then his eyes fluttered opened. "Lucifer?"

Lucifer nodded. "Let's get you back to the bed, okay?"

Sam looked around, looking surprised to be on the floor. "When did...?" Sam's brow creased in confusion as he pushed himself up.

"Shhh," Lucifer said. "Rest, Sam. Let me carry you."

Lucifer reached down and slipped his arms beneath Sam, lifting him from the floor. Sam turned into his touch and rested his head against Lucifer's shoulder. Lucifer placed him gently on the bed.

"I don't think I can do this, Lucifer," Sam said.

Lucifer brushed the sweat-dampened hair from Sam's eyes. "You can and you are."

"Can't you just kill me?"

Lucifer was stunned by the question. Killing Sam was the furthest thing from his mind. "Of all the things I could do for you, you ask the one thing I cannot."

"Because I'm your vessel?" Sam asked.

"No, Sam, because you are you."

Lucifer laid a hand on Sam's brow and sent him to sleep again for a minute of peace.

Sam rested for only a moment before his arms flailed out from at his sides and his whole body began to shake. His head was tilted back and his elbows were curled in at his sides. Every muscle in his body seemed to be contracting. Lucifer had never seen anything like it, not in all his years of Hell.

Sam's breaths came in a rasp, and Lucifer crouched on the bed beside him.

"Sam, it's okay. Relax for me, please," he pleaded, but Sam either couldn't hear him or he was unable to obey. He continued to shudder and shake. Lucifer pressed his hand against Sam's temple and tried to send him to sleep again, but it didn't work.

Lucifer saw blood drip down from Sam's clenched fists, and he struggled to uncurl Sam's fingers. When he did, he saw that Sam's fingernails had cut into his palm. He was able to heal the wounds at once, but it was the reason behind the injury that worried Lucifer. He didn't understand what was happening.

Strangely, it was Nick's dormant mind that presented the answer as Lucifer searched the memories. A seizure. Sam was having a seizure. Nick's mind told him that he needed to allow Sam to ride it out, but that didn't help Lucifer deal with it any easier.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Sam's body relaxed and his breaths came easier again. His eyes stayed closed though, and he didn't respond to Lucifer's voice calling to him. He looked more comfortable than he had been since the withdrawal started, so Lucifer merely rested a hand on his side and watched the rise and fall of Sam's chest as he breathed. It had suddenly become vitally important to Lucifer that that motion continued.

Sam stirred, and Lucifer knew some new horror was coming for Sam to bear, so he did the only thing he could think to do, which was to take Sam's hand in his own and wait for the nightmare to pass.

* * *

The first thing Sam saw as he opened his eyes and looked around the room was Dean. He was sitting on the edge of the bed looking across at Sam.

Sam was so relieved to see his brother again that he didn't notice Dean's scowl at first.

"Dean, man, it's so good to see you. How did you get here? Where's Lucifer?"

Dean scowled. "I can't say the same about seeing you. You look like shit."

Sam ran a hand through his hair and tried to straighten his shirt. "Sorry, it's just been rough day."

Dean laughed. "You were always so pathetic. Look at you. You're such a waste."

Sam recoiled as if the words had physically hurt him. "Why are you saying this?"

Dean got to his feet and paced the length of the room. "Because it's true, Sam, and I'm sick of pretending otherwise. I mean just look at what you've been doing lately."

"What have I done?"

"You think we don't know? Chuck has seen it all. You and the Devil cozying it up in the diner, you hanging onto his every word. What were you thinking, Sam?"

"I did what I had to do," Sam said defensively.

"Yeah? What you had to do was give us actual helpful information. You had Famine here in the hotel and you didn't raise a finger against him."

"I couldn't help it. It was the blood."

"Yes, the filthy demon blood that runs through your veins. As if it wasn't bad enough what Yellow-Eyes turned you into, you had to make it worse by sucking down the damn stuff. Making yourself even more of a freak than you already are."

Sam curled in on himself. It was everything he had ever feared Dean to be thinking.

"I could never love someone as filthy as you. Monster, Sam. You're a monster."

"Dean, no!"

"And I tried so hard to pretend that we were brothers. That you weren't one of the filthy things that we hunt. But we're not even the same species. You're nothing to me."

"Don't say that to me. Don't you say that to me."

Dean raised his hand and Sam saw the glint of the light on the demon blade. Dean smiled. "Yeah, you see it, don't you, Sam. A demon blade to kill a demon child."

"No!" Sam pleaded. "Please don't!"

Dean stepped forward and reached for Sam. He gripped Sam's hair and yanked his head back. Resting the knife directly over Sam's throat, he pressed down.

"Goodbye, Sam."

Sam felt the blade cut through his flesh and muscle, and blood poured from the wound, soaking his shirt. He choked and gasped, trying to draw breath, inhaling blood into his lungs.

* * *

Lucifer did his best to help Sam, but he was helpless himself. He had never dealt with seizures before this day and now Sam was having his second.

Lucifer watched as Sam choked. He lifted Sam's head and tried to cradle it. A whisper in the back of his mind, maybe Nick, told him to roll Sam to his side, so he did. Sam's muscles kicked and flexed again, then he went still.

His chest rose and fell and Lucifer nearly cried with relief. It was true that he could bring him back, but he didn't want Sam to experience heaven only to have it ripped away.

He could hear a wheezing sound in Sam's chest and he placed a hand on Sam's arm, letting his grace heal him.

Lucifer took the ice bucket from the counter and filled it with warm water from the bathroom. Taking a washcloth, he proceeded to clean Sam's exposed skin. Running the washcloth over him, he whispered reassurances Sam couldn't hear.

There was no knowing how long the reprieve would last before Sam was calling out to invisible assailants again, but he was going to take advantage of the chance to give Sam a little comfort while he could.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

There was a fresh stack of papers beside the printer when Dean got downstairs the next morning.

"No Chuck?" Dean asked the room at large.

"He went into the town to buy groceries," Castiel said. "He said for us to start reading without him."

Dean shrugged and filled a mug with coffee. Sitting on a chair opposite Bobby's desk and resting his ankle on his knee, he sat back and started to read.

He was amused that Sam woke with hangover, he figured Sam deserved it after the way he spent the last two weeks, but he was pleased that Lucifer didn't leave him to suffer long. He liked the idea of seeing the waitress flirt with Lucifer, too, and when Sam and Lucifer passed the demon Sam'd had a run in with on the stairs, Dean laughed. The light mood didn't last long though.

_"Sam took a deep breath of fresh, clean air as they stepped out onto the street. It felt good to be outside again. Now, in the sober light of day, he was able to see just how far he let himself fall in the last two weeks. He thought of Dean and wondered how he'd reacted to seeing Sam in such a mess. Was he angry as Sam blotted out days in a haze of alcohol or did he understand Sam's weakness?"_

Bobby looked up at Dean. "So, do you blame him?"

Dean raked a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I guess I can understand how he got in such a state, but I wish he hadn't done it. Sam's better than that."

Bobby nodded thoughtfully but didn't comment.

Dean was surprised that Lucifer accepted the example of the elderly couple as a good side of humanity. He noted the ease with which Sam and Lucifer were talking, and it bothered him. To an outsider, Sam and Lucifer could just be a pair of buddies enjoying breakfast together. Dean thought Sam was relaxing his guard too much around the Devil, and he wished he could talk to him again to get a read on what he was thinking.

All of their attention sharpened when Lucifer mentioned horsemen, and Dean skimmed down the page quickly, eager to know more about Lucifer's plans.

"_When they got back in the hotel, Sam sat on the bed, resting his back against the headboard, and Lucifer perched on the edge of the computer desk. 'So,' Sam said. 'What's up?' 'Famine,' Lucifer said. Sam smiled. 'I would have thought running out of food would be the least of your worries.' Lucifer frowned. 'Okay, I was kidding. What's Famine done wrong?' 'He is a posturing pest,' Lucifer said, waving his hand in the air. 'I have never known anyone like him, and you should have met my brother Gabriel.' Sam chuckled. It was so bizarre to think of Lucifer as having brothers. Though he knew Lucifer once had a family, brothers like him, it didn't fit Sam's image of him. 'Really, you should,' Lucifer said. 'You have never met anyone like him.'"_

Dean looked up from the papers and exchanged a glance with Bobby. "Am I the only one that's thinking there is something off here?" he asked.

"What is troubling you?" Castiel asked.

"They talking like they're buddies," Dean said. "Sam is acting like he does with us. He's relaxed."

"Would you rather he was tense?" Castiel asked, his brow creased with confusion.

"I'd rather he was on his guard."

"Maybe it's an act," Bobby said. "He has surprised us so far with how smart he has been—two week bender notwithstanding—maybe he's playing the part of Lucifer's friend to get information for us."

"Maybe," Dean said doubtfully.

Bobby's theory was blown out of the water as Dean read on. Dean's hands tightened on the pages as he took in what he was reading.

"_Lucifer frowned. 'I know what you are doing, Sam. I know you are attempting to work against me. Nothing I can tell you of Famine will aid you in my defeat,' Sam was stunned. He hadn't been thinking about defeating Lucifer at all when he initiated the conversation. He had just wanted to know who or what was powerful enough to irk Lucifer. He should have been thinking of defeating him, though. And he was angry with himself for letting that fall by the wayside. He thought of Dean and Bobby and he felt a pang of guilt. They were fighting while he was laughing it up with Lucifer. What was he thinking?"_

Dean looked up from the pages. "That's a damn good question. What _is_ he thinking?"

Bobby's hands rested on his knees. He looked deep in thought. "Maybe we're asking too much of him."

"I'm not asking anything of him other than he remember who and what he is with. Sam's acting like he is on a damn vacation with a buddy, not undercover with the Devil."

"That's the thing," Bobby said, scrubbing a hand through his beard. "He's not undercover. That makes it sound like he has a choice, when he doesn't. Sam is a prisoner, and"—he looked Dean in the eye—"he is a prisoner because he is trying to protect you."

"You think I don't know that?" Dean snapped. He was more than aware that Sam was only with the Devil to protect him. Through his imprisonment he had gained protection for Bobby and Castiel, too, but it was for Dean he did it in the first place. That was what they did for each other.

Bobby sighed. "Ignoring the fact Sam is holed up with the Devil, the Prince of Lies, you've got to look at it like any other hostage situation. You spend too long with your captor and sooner or later you sympathize with them. It's Stockholm syndrome."

"Yeah, but it's Sam," Dean said.

"Exactly," Bobby said. "It's Sam. The guy that believes in second chances and giving people the benefit of the doubt. Dammit, just reading some of these pages makes me wonder if Lucifer is really a bad as he seems, and that's just reading. Imagine what it's like for Sam to be living it."

"Lucifer is compelling," Castiel said thoughtfully.

Dean tossed the pages down on the desk. "I'll be damned if I'm letting my brother fall under Lucifer's spell."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Bobby asked. "You got some great plan for a rescue batting around in your brain? 'Cause I sure as hell don't."

"It's quite impossible," Castiel said. "Even if we find where Lucifer is keeping him, any attempt to extract him would end in our death."

Dean's hands fisted. "This is bullshit."

"Agreed," Bobby said. "Now you wanna calm down and read some more or do you want to take your temper out on another junker?"

Dean felt like he was being chided for acting like a child, which was unfair. He was in an impossible situation, and he was doing his best. A lot like Sam... The thought worked like a bucket of water over his anger. Sam was in a much worse situation than him, and he was doing his best. If treating the Devil like a friend was how he chose to manage it, then that was down to him. Dean had no choice but to accept that.

"'_You're upset,' Lucifer stated. 'Why?' 'Would you believe that I wasn't thinking of your defeat when I asked?' Lucifer nodded. 'If you tell me you weren't, I will believe you. Is that what's upset you, that I misunderstood?' Sam shook his head. 'No. I'm angry with myself because, for a moment, I forgot.' Lucifer looked at him sympathetically. 'I understand. It must be hard for you to see me as a threat all the time while you are forced to see that I am not the monster I am portrayed as.' He paused. 'How can I help you?' Sam shrugged. 'There's nothing you can do. It's all on me.'"_

That was precisely the problem, Dean thought. Too much was on Sam.

He read on and was horrified to learn that Lucifer was taking souls from people to sustain a horseman merely to complete a set. He didn't understand the mentality behind thinking like that. Lucifer was like a child wanting the full set of baseball cards, even if he had to kick a few kids to get them.

He was almost relieved when Meg arrived and interrupted them. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear more.

_"What he wanted more than anything was to be able to talk to Dean. He felt like he was slipping, and he needed his brother to ground him again. He knew Dean was watching him through Chuck, and he would have seen the conversation between Sam and Lucifer. Dean would know Sam wasn't thinking of the hunt when he questioned Lucifer about Famine. He would be so disappointed in Sam. He wished there was a way to made Dean understand how confusing it was to be so close to the fallen angel and remember who he really was."_

"See?" Bobby said. "He's doing his best."

"I see, Bobby," Dean said quietly. Like Sam, he wished more than anything that he could talk to his brother.

Dean was about to read on when there was a commotion at the door. Chuck came in, weighed down with grocery bags. He set them on the kitchen counters and peered into the study.

"Oh, you're still reading, huh... I'll just put this stuff away. I don't know about you guys, but I can't survive on whiskey and coffee for long, and I..."

"What's up with you?" Dean asked. "You're more twitchy than normal."

"Me?" Chuck laughed nervously. "I'm fine. Just out of curiosity, how far have you got in the pages?"

"Meg just came and got Lucifer," Dean said.

"Oh..." Chuck fumbled with one of the bags, taking out items and setting them on the counter. He slapped his forehead. "You know what I forgot? I forgot cheese. I better go and get some." He turned to leave, but Dean jumped up and blocked the door.

"What's going on?" Dean demanded.

"Really, nothing, it's just... um..." Chuck tugged at his collar. "Is it hot in here? It's hot in here. I'm just gonna step outside for a moment."

"Chuck," Dean said in a warning tone.

"Just read it," Bobby said. "I have a feeling whatever has Chuck acting like a squirrel on crack is in these pages."

Dean picked up the papers and read. _"Sam got up from the desk and paced the small room. He licked his lips as his mouth began to water. There was something wrong with him. He felt off, almost unwell. He pressed a finger to his throat and felt his pulse racing through his veins. He was about to call to Lucifer when the sound reached him. It was a steady thudding, but it was not the sound of his own heart he could hear beating in his chest, it was someone else's."_

"What the hell is going on?" Bobby asked.

Dean was scared he already knew the answer. He looked to Chuck. "It's the blood again, isn't it?"

Chuck nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Sam is craving demon blood again," Castiel stated, sounding disappointed.

Chuck rubbed at the back of neck, looking uncomfortable. "Yeah. Famine decided to pay a visit to Lucifer, and he has affected Sam."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. This was too much. He didn't want to read more, but he knew he had to. He had to suffer through this for his brother.

"_The door clicked opened, and Meg stuck her head around again. 'Sorry to disturb'_—_the scathing tone she uses obliviated any effect of her polite words_—'_but Lucifer asked me to tell you he is going to be delayed in returning to you and he apologizes.' 'I need to see him,' Sam said hoarsely. 'Well, tough luck, Winchester,' she said. 'He is busy with people that actually matter.' Sam felt the tremors starting in his hands, and he hugged his arms around himself. It was coming. and it was coming on strong. He felt the need burning in him. He hadn't felt it this bad since those wretched days in the panic room."_

Dean and Bobby exchanged a look. They were both remembering those days, too, remembering how it felt to hear Sam's screams of pain and howls of anguish.

Dean read through gritted teeth as Meg taunted Sam, and he wished more than anything that he could kill her. As soon as Lucifer was defeated, she was going to be next on the must-die list.

"'_I will send them away,' Lucifer said at once. 'Can you hold it together a little longer? I must send Famine away. Perhaps if he is not so close, the need won't be as great.' Sam nodded jerkily, still hugging his arms around himself. 'I can try.' Lucifer reached out as if to touch him and then he pulled back his hand. 'Stay strong, Sam.' He left the room and Sam dropped down into his knees. 'Stay strong, Sam.' It was exactly what Dean would say if he was there, and Sam had never needed his brother more. He needed Dean to hold him back and took care of him like he always did, as he could feel himself slipping."_

Dean couldn't read anymore. He needed to be there, He needed to help Sam. He dropped the pages down on the desk and paced up and down the length of the room.

"Dean," Bobby said gently.

"What?" Dean snapped. "You going to tell me everything's okay? That he is fine?"

"Of course not," Bobby said. "I'm not going to lie to you. We both know he is not fine, but beating yourself up isn't going to help anyone."

"I need to be there," Dean said. "I have to help him."

"Technically, it isn't happening yet," Chuck said, checking his watch. "They're probably still at the diner at the moment."

Dean glared at him and Chuck backed away until he was leaning against the counter. He held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry."

"Is he going to drink it?" Dean asked.

Chuck nodded. "I'm afraid so."

Dean covered his eyes with his hands and dug his fingertips deep into his temples. He knew what would happen next, Sam would have to go through withdrawal again. He barely made it through alive last time.

"Would you like me to read?" Castiel asked, picking up the pages from the desk.

Dean was torn, he couldn't bear to read the pages himself, but he needed to know what was happening to his brother. He couldn't hide from it, not when his brother was suffering.

It turned out it was harder to listen than to read. Even though Castiel's tone was not inflected with emotion, the words tore at Dean.

"_He could hear the footsteps moving up and down the hall, and he knew that it was demons moving around out there. Demons that were walking up and down with their veins pulsing with the nectar that was demon blood. Nectar... There was no other word for it; the way it tasted and the way it made him feel... 'Dean,' he moaned. 'I need you.' He knew Dean couldn't hear him, but he needed to say it. Just saying his brother's name gave him strength. He mumbled it as a litany as he bowed his head down until his forehead was touching the floor." _

Dean fell into a chair and bowed at the waist, fisting his hands in his hair. It was physically painful for him to hear his brother's suffering and not to be able to do anything about it.

_"Then it happened. It was too much. The wave of desire that ripped through him was too much to handle. Famine was affecting him more than ever before, and he found himself on his feet. He crossed the room and rooted through his duffel. Pulling out the knife, he stared at its clean edge. 'I'm sorry, Dean,' he said to the empty room, and then he forced all thought of his brother from his mind and focused on getting what he needed."_

"You don't have to be sorry, Sam," Dean said. "Jesus, Sammy, that's the last thing you need to be." Dean ran a hand through his hair. "Go on, Cas. Keep reading."

Castiel nodded_. "The hall had fallen silent, there was no movement, but Sam didn't need it. He could hear the pounding hearts behind the closed doors, and he selected one where there was only one demon inside. He didn't want to have to fight too hard. He wanted the blood fast. Once he was strengthened, he could pin the others in place as he fed. It would be so easy." _

"I'll be damned," Bobby said. "He is thinking just like a hunter."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You're impressed by this?"

"Don't be stupid. I'm just stating facts here. He is playing it smart."

Dean sighed and gestured for Castiel to continue.

"_The door clicked opened and he saw a short, male demon sitting on the edge of the bed. Casa Erotica was playing on the television, and the demon looked up and started as Sam entered. 'What do you want?' it asked. 'You,' Sam said simply and lunged forward with the knife held aloft. Sam shouldn't have been able to overpower the demon so easily, but Lucifer's orders were like a gag on the demon's strength. Instead of fighting back, he called out for help. The knife cut through the air and found its mark on the demon's neck. It sliced through the skin and warm, pulsating blood followed. The first mouthful was exquisite." _

Dean shuddered. "He is like a goddamned vampire."

Castiel nodded. "It is quite chilling to read."

"Try seeing it all play out in surround sound high definition," Chuck said.

"You're all halfwits," Bobby said in a bored tone. "He is drinking demon blood, what do you expect it to sound like?"

"_It filled Sam's mouth and flowed down his throat. The rich taste of it brought Sam's taste buds to life, and he groaned his satisfaction. Then came the rush. The heady feeling of contentment and power that nothing on earth could compare to. Sam was invincible. He was fed. He was sated."_

Castiel looked up as he reached the end of the page. "There is no more."

Chuck looked awkward. "I didn't know if you would want to know more."

Dean nodded. "I have to know it all."

Chuck nodded and shifted some papers by the computer, taking out a stack. He held them out to Dean. Dean took them and read the first line and then he faltered. He couldn't bring himself to read it aloud.

"Cas, do you mind?" he asked.

"I am happy to be of help," Castiel said, taking the pages and clearing his throat.

"_Sam was kneeling on the floor, bowed over a demon. The demon was struggling, but Sam's strength overpowered him. Sam's mouth was pressed against a wound on the demon's throat, and he was sucking at the blood and gulping it down. 'Sam,' Lucifer said in a sigh. Sam raised his head, and Lucifer saw the blood smeared around his mouth. 'Mine,' he said in a growl."_

Dean thought that his brother sounded almost primal in the way he claimed his victim. The demon blood dragged Sam down to his base instincts like an animal.

"_There was movement at the door, and Sam stiffened. Meg was standing there, looking in. 'Do you need help?' she asked. Lucifer shook his head. 'No, we will be—' It was too late; Sam was already in action. Fixing his eyes on Meg, he raised a hand and his face contorted with effort." _

"Awww, man," Dean said. "He is not only sucking down the stuff, he is using the powers, too."

Bobby shrugged. "At least he is using them on that bitch Meg. I'm not complaining."

Castiel cleared his throat and continued to read down the page. "'_Lucifer!' Meg said desperately, wanting assistance. Lucifer merely watched as Sam's features twisted and he fisted a hand. Black smoke poured from Meg's mouth. The human Meg was possessing fell to the ground as the last of Meg left her. She was dead. Sam looked satisfied. 'I have wanted to do that for so long.'" _

Dean sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck.

"What are you thinking, Dean?"

Dean looked up at Bobby. "That he is all alone in this damned mess and there's nothing we can do to help him."

"He's got Lucifer," Chuck said.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "Which is worse than being alone."

"He may surprise you," Chuck said in return.

"Keep reading, Cas," Bobby said. "The sooner we get through this, the better."

Castiel read as Lucifer led Sam to another room in the motel, and presented him with the jugs of blood.

"He is giving him more!" Dean said in a horrified tone. "What the hell?"

"From an outsider's point of view, he is doing the right thing," Castiel said dryly. "He is giving Sam what he needs in that moment. You must remember that Famine is still there, affecting him."

"But it's going to made it all so much harder later," Dean said.

"Lucifer doesn't know that," Castiel said. "He is merely reacting to the immediate problem. Sam says he needs more, therefore Lucifer provides."

Dean huffed. "Did I ever mention how much I hate angel logic?"

Castiel's brow furrowed with confusion. "Would you rather I was illogical?"

Dean shook his head. Not for the first time, Castiel had missed the point completely.

Castiel rustled the pages and continued down the page. "_As Sam drained the last jug, he turned to Lucifer. His eyes had lost their unnatural brightness and he looked scared. 'Lucifer, help me,' he pleaded. 'I can't... I can't do this.' Lucifer stepped forward and placed a hand on Sam's arm. 'What do you need?' 'More blood,' Sam said at once and then shook his head. 'No, I can't... I need you to made it stop. He has to stop affecting me. I'm losing myself.'"_

Dean looked away from Castiel and stared determinedly out of the window. He didn't want to hear this, but he couldn't stop listening. It was all the worse because he knew the hardest part was yet to come. Most frustrating of all was that, for Sam, none of this had happened yet. They had all the information to stop it ever happening—Lucifer needed to stop Famine before he reached the hotel—but no way of sharing it.

Castiel read, and they heard how Lucifer raced from the room, leaving Sam alone. Dean could only hope that he had left go deal with Famine. It looked like he had, as the next moment Sam felt the hunger leave his body. He fell to the floor and made himself as small as he could as he waited for Lucifer to came back.

"'_Are you okay, Sam?' Lucifer asked softly. Sam shook his head but didn't look up. Lucifer knelt beside him and lay a hand on Sam's shoulder. 'What can I do?' 'I need Dean,' Sam said plaintively. 'Please let me call Dean.'"_

Dean looked to Chuck. "Is he going to let him?"

Chuck nodded. "I haven't written it out, I thought you would prefer to have the conversation in private, but he will call you some time later this afternoon."

Dean exhaled in a shaky gust. He was going to be able to speak to his brother. He had never needed a phone call more. He didn't know what he would say to him, he had never been good with words, but he figured Sam would take the lead.

Castiel turned over the page to read more but Dean held out his hand. "I can take it now, Cas."

Castiel handed over the pages and Dean began to read. He skimmed through Sam's shower and the conversation between Sam and Lucifer until Sam began to explain the withdrawal.

"'_Headaches, fever, hallucinations, seizures...' Sam trailed off. 'Last time, I thought I was being tortured by Alastair.'"_

Dean gaped at the pages in his hands. He had no idea that Sam had gone through that. He never imagined the withdrawal would do that to him. Twisting the knife in a little deeper, he read on.

"'_Imagine someone slicing you up and presenting you with your intestines to admire. That is just how unpleasant it can be.'"_

Dean shuddered. He knew how that felt because he had both experienced and executed it. He felt nauseated. He never imagined he had those experiences in common with his brother.

"You okay, Son?" Bobby asked.

Dean nodded and cleared his throat. Reading on, he was confused that Sam asked Lucifer not to let him call again. He said he would say and do shady stuff. Dean didn't know what he meant, but he trusted Sam. If he said it was a bad idea to talk, it was better that they didn't.

He read on and raised an eyebrow when Chuck was mentioned.

"Lucifer knows about you?" Dean asked Chuck.

"He is an archangel, fallen or not," Castiel said. "He knows and sees everything the other angels see."

Chuck laughed nervously. "It's a little weird for me. I'm a writer. We're used to working in the background. Suddenly, Lucifer knows my name." He looked thoughtful. "I might have to start medicating myself if this goes on much longer."

"Do what the rest of us do, shove down all that shit with a bottle of whiskey," Dean said.

Chuck nodded. "Good advice."

Dean read on, as they discussed Sam killing Meg. He looked up at Bobby to catch the older hunter's reaction to what Sam said. '"_I have wanted to do that for a long time. I owed it to Bobby. I just wish I'd had the juice to kill her."'_

Something clicked in Dean's mind. He had worried when Sam showed no remorse for what he had done—killing the woman when he exorcised Meg—but now it made sense. Sam thought the ends justified the means as he had been avenging Bobby. Bobby nodded. He didn't comment, but Dean knew he was touched by what Sam said.

"'_Where is Famine now? You didn't tell me how you stopped him.' Lucifer smiled. 'I took a leaf out of the Winchester book and cut off his hand.' He pulled the ring from his pocket and turned it over in his hand. 'He is useless to me now, of course, but I think it was worth it.'"_

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "The Devil took out a horseman for Sam."

Dean nodded. "I guess he did." He looked to Chuck for an explanation and Chuck sighed.

"I know you hate me saying it, but Sam _is_ special."

"What does that even mean?" Dean asked brutally.

Chuck raised his hands. "You're reading the pages I am writing. Why can't you see it, too?"

"All I see is a fallen archangel manipulating my brother into a yes. That's all."

"Then there's no point me trying to show you different," Chuck said, glowering in a rare show of annoyance.

"How's about we finish these pages," Bobby said, breaking the tense silence of the room.

Dean read on. He was disappointed that Lucifer wasn't even able to spare Sam the lighter symptoms of coming down from the blood. If he couldn't do that, he would be next to useless when it really mattered. He wondered how Lucifer was going to manage Sam's withdrawal. It wasn't like the hotel had a panic room. How would the Devil react when Sam was calling out for help, knowing there was nothing he can do.

His interest increased when Sam explained how he first became addicted to the blood. It's a conversation he'd never had with Sam before.

'_It was Lilith. After Dean died, I focused everything I had on taking her out, but it wasn't working. I was working with my powers, exorcising demons, but every time the hosts died. Ruby said it was because I was being too slow, they suffered too much. She told me I had to be stronger, faster, if I was ever going to defeat Lilith.'" _

Castiel nodded. "His powers were incredible, but they were too taxing on the human vessels. He must have killed many as he trained himself."

"Don't really want to think about that right now, Cas," Dean said.

"Then I apologize."

Dean shrugged and kept reading. "'_She brought me something in a hip flask, telling me it would help.' He paused for a moment and licked his lips. 'You've got to understand where my head was at the time. I had buried my brother a couple of months ago, and all I could think of was revenge. So, I took the flask and I drank. I knew the second it touched my tongue what it was, and you'd think that would stop me, but it didn't. It was like an electric shock. Power raced through me, and I knew it was the only way I was ever going to be strong enough for Lilith.' He raked a shaky hand through his hair. 'I told myself it was all for Dean, but deep down I knew the truth. I was doing it because it made me feel good.'"_

Dean didn't understand why he had never had that conversation with his brother. Perhaps because he assumed Sam would made excuses for what he had done. But he didn't. He was being completely honest with Lucifer, telling him exactly what he'd done and why.

He read Lucifer's reassurances and Sam's rebuttals. It was so infuriatingly like Sam to not accepted the life raft of comfort when it was offered.

When Sam asked Lucifer to help him sleep, Dean was relieved. He didn't want to read more.

He dropped the pages down on the desk and rubbed at his tired eyes. "Is that it, Chuck?"

Chuck nodded. "That's it for today. Sam is going to sleep for the rest of the day, and as for tomorrow... I don't know what's going to happen yet."

* * *

Chuck made them lunch out of the groceries he'd bought, and they sat out on the back porch to eat. Castiel left, using the time without reading to continue his search for his errant father. When they were done eating, Dean grabbed the toolkit out of the back of the Impala and set to work on one of the junkers in the yard.

It was easy, thoughtless work, and it allowed his mind to wander to his brother. The phone sat on top of the toolkit, and Dean's eyes drifted to it every so often waiting for it to ring. He was deep in the engine of a broken down old Ford when it happened.

His head snapped up and he cracked it against the hood of the car. Cursing under his breath, he snatched up the phone.

"Sammy?"

He heard Sam draw an uneven breath. "Dean... I'm sorry."

Just like that, any lingering anger he felt towards his brother for what had happened in the past few days disappeared, and he was the big brother again, needing to comfort the younger.

"Jesus, Sam, don't say that. It's not your fault."

"I tried, man. I really tried." Sam sounded near tears.

"I know, buddy. Just take it easy," Dean said. "Things are going to get worse before they get better." As soon as the words left his mouth, Dean cursed them. Why did he have to say that? Like Sam didn't already know he was facing a literal hell in the next couple of days.

"I don't think I can do that again," Sam said desperately.

"As much as I hate to say it, Lucifer is there with you. Let him help you. I know you can do it. I know you're stronger than you think." Dean did hate to say it. He didn't want Sam to have to depend on Lucifer for anything, let alone support through withdrawal, but he didn't have a lot of options. Both Dean and Sam were relying on the Devil to do the right thing.

Dean heard Lucifer murmuring in the background. "I will help you."

"I'm scared, Dean," Sam said. "I'm scared of what I'll see."

Dean was scared of what he'd see, too. If he thought he was about to be faced with Alastair again, he would be a wreck. Sam was holding it together better than he ever could.

"Just remember it's not real, Sam. Whatever you see, it's not real. It's going to be okay."

"I wish you were here."

Dean wished that too, so much. He wished he could see his brother through this, as for all Lucifer's words, he was not going to be able to help Sam worth a damn. Dean hadn't been able to.

"You can do this, Sammy," he said. "Just hang on a little longer, okay? If I could be there, I would."

"I know." Sam sighed. "I can do this."

"That's right, Sam," Dean said firmly. "You can and you will. I have faith in you."

Dean heard a rustling in the call and he was about to ask what's happening when he heard a voice he had never heard before, but would know anywhere. Only the Devil could sound so gentle but be so cruel.

"Dean."

"Lucifer." It was all he could do to speak the Devil's name without cussing him out. He was having a conversation with the creature that had kidnapped his brother and created this nightmare.

"I know you have a low opinion of me, but trust me when I say I will do all I can to see Sam through this."

"I don't have any other choice, do I? You're all Sam's got."

"I will take care of him, Dean."

Dean opened his mouth to speak, not knowing what to say, before he realized the phone had gone dead in his hand. The Devil had hung up on him.

He dropped the phone down on into the toolkit and kicked at the tire of the car.

"Dammit!"

* * *

No one was speaking in the study the next morning. The only sounds were Chuck's fingers hammering at the keys. When he pushed back from the table and the printer started spewing out pages, Dean spoke.

"It starts today, right?"

Chuck nodded somberly.

"Any chance it ends today, too?" Bobby asked hopefully.

Chuck shrugged. "I don't know. I wrote everything I saw, but there is no knowing what will happen tomorrow. Sam wasn't lucid at the end."

Dean raked a hand through his hair. The last time Sam was well into his second day of withdrawal when he broke out of the panic room. There was no knowing how long a withdrawal could really take.

Dean picked up the pages at the printer and stared at them. Enclosed in that black print was the true horrors of Sam's withdrawal, and he was not sure he had the strength to read it.

"Would you like me to read?" Castiel offered.

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I got this." He took a deep breath and began.

"_It started late the next day. Sam was asleep still, cosseted under Lucifer's influence, when the tremors started. They woke him, and he looked around the room blearily. 'Lucifer?' he said softly. 'I am here.' Sam turned and saw Lucifer sitting on the edge of the bed. He was looking at Sam sympathetically. 'It's starting,' Sam said, the quaver in his voice betraying his fear. Lucifer nodded. 'I am here for you, Sam.'"_

Dean was confused. It didn't sound like Lucifer had prepared the room at all for what was to come. It was true he didn't need the restraints that Dean and Bobby had been forced to use—he was plenty strong enough to hold Sam down—but he should at least have cleared out the furniture so Sam didn't hurt himself if he was thrown around the room like last time.

It was all very well Lucifer saying he was there for Sam, but he didn't seem to have the faintest idea of what was about to happen.

"_Sam pushed himself to a sitting position and rested back against the headboard. 'I can do this,' he whispered to himself."_ Dean paused. "Yeah, I know you can, Sam. Just hang in there."

He read as Sam struggled through the nausea, and he raised an eyebrow at Lucifer's attempts to help. The fallen angel didn't know what was to come, and Dean wondered how long he would last before he left Sam alone in that room like he and Bobby were forced to. He skimmed through the pages, waiting for the moment it will get real, and then he found it.

"_Sam lay on the bed, tremors rocking his body, wondering when the worst will come, when it did. One moment he was looking at Lucifer's profile, the next the fallen angel turned his head and it was Alastair looking at him. 'Hey, Sammy,' he said in his nasal tone. 'You miss me?' Sam jerked upright and threw himself off the bed. He skittered across the floor, backing himself into a corner with his knees drawn up to his chest. Alastair pulled a scalpel from his shirt pocket. 'Oh the fun we will have,' he said, admiring the blade. Sam buried his head in his hands and he screamed."_

Dean's hand came up to cover his face. He knew it was not real, that Alastair was dead, so he couldn't really hurt Sam, but Sam's mind was going to present him with those horrors anyway.

"_The light assaulted Sam's eyes and he cringed back. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying. He needed to get away before Alastair returned. There was a voice coming from behind him, pleading for him to listen, but he couldn't. It was a trick. He ran for the door and then someone was grabbing him, holding him back. 'Easy, Sam,' the voice said. 'It's going to be okay.' 'Dean? Where's Dean?' Sam cried. 'I need Dean!'"_

Dean's fingers clenched, creasing the paper. He knew that if he was there, he wouldn't be able to do anything to help Sam, but the need remained.

_He fell to his knees and curled into himself, rocking. 'I need my brother.' The voice sighed and a cool hand brushed over his forehead. He turned into the touch. It was soothing against the harshness that was assaulting his senses. A warmth passed through him and his eyes drifted closed. He slept."_

"Lucifer is putting him to sleep?" Bobby said.

"It will not last long," Castiel said. "There are limits even to Lucifer's abilities."

"Still, it's something when we have nothing," Dean said.

"_Suddenly, Sam stiffened and looked across the room, as if seeing something other than the blandly decorated wall. His eyes filled with tears and he whispered. 'Mom?'"_

Dean gaped at the pages. Sam never mentioned this! He thought perhaps this could be the one good thing about the withdrawal, God knew he would love to see his mother again, but he soon realized that it was a curse not a blessing.

"_She was beautiful and ethereal and everything Sam wanted to see, but she was not happy. Her mouth was turned down at the corners and there was a crease between her brows. 'Sam,' she said stiffly. 'How could you do this?' Tears filled Sam's eyes. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It was Famine.' 'Excuses,' she snapped. 'You did this to yourself, and you know it. After all I sacrificed for you, you would defile your body again.'"_

"No!" Dean said. "No! No! No! This is too messed up." He raked a hand through his hair. He couldn't read about his mom saying those things to Sam. He just couldn't.

Someone reached out and took the pages from him, but he didn't know who it was until Bobby started to read.

"_Sam hid his face in his hands. 'I'm so sorry.' 'We trusted you, Sam,' she said. 'You told Dean you would be strong, but I do not see a strong man in front of me. Do you know what I see? I see a puling child that has destroyed himself and his brother because of his selfishness.'"_

No, Sam, Dean thought. Don't listen.

Bobby read on remorselessly, driving every word his mother spoke into Dean's brain. As Sam pleaded to Lucifer, Dean mentally did the same. Hoping that Lucifer could take away the horror before it broke his brother's mind.

"_Sam let out a moan and then pushed himself up to his feet. He staggered his way toward the bathroom, Lucifer on his heels. Sam wavered and then nearly fell, but Lucifer was there to catch him. He slipped his arms beneath Sam's from behind and helped lower him to the floor. 'Easy, Sam,' he said as Sam tensed and collapsed against the toilet. Lucifer winced in sympathy as Sam began to heave in earnest. It was a painful retching noise broken by Sam's pained whimpers. Lucifer reached for a washcloth and quickly dampened it in the sink. He folded it and placed it on the back of Sam's neck. He grabbed another and dampened it as well, this time though, he reached around and wiped Sam's face."_

Dean hitched in a breath. He had just noticed, through the horror of the narration, that Lucifer was still there. He hadn't run away as Dean thought he would. He was there for Sam every step of the way, holding him and fetching him washcloths. A wave of guilt rushed through Dean, and he felt like a dick.

"He is still there," he said in a whisper. "Lucifer is still there."

Bobby nodded, and Dean saw the same realization in Bobby's eyes that must be in his.

"We didn't know what to expect," Bobby said. "We thought we were doing the right thing."

"We left him in there alone"

Bobby shook his head. "We didn't know any better."

"Neither does Lucifer," Dean said. "But look at him. He is taking care of Sam when we just locked him in the panic room. We sat up here and got drunk and listened to him scream and… Dammit!" He kicked out at a chair and it flew across the room. "We just left him!"

Bobby nodded. "I know we did," he said heavily. "And reading these pages, I wish we could take it back and fix it all, but we can't. What's done is done, and no amount of beating ourselves up is going to change that."

Castiel picked up the papers. "Shall I take a turn at the reading?"

Dean didn't care who read, and Bobby looked too lost in his own thoughts to care either, so Dean nodded to Castiel. "Sure thing, Cas."

"_Sam sank back against Lucifer and closed his eyes. 'I'm dying.' Lucifer hummed, maneuvering Sam so he was pressed up against him, his head resting against his chest. 'You're not dying, Sam. I know it seems bad, but you're doing well.' 'It hurts, Lucifer.'"_

The words tear at Dean. He was hearing about how the Devil, Satan himself, was taking care of his brother, and for all the hatred he felt toward the Devil, he was thankful for him in that moment.

"_Lucifer sighed. 'I know, and I wish I could take the pain away.' 'Please, Lucifer, let me sleep again. Just for a minute. I can't keep doing this.' 'It won't last, Sam.' 'Please,' Lucifer nodded and then brought his hand to Sam's temple. A moment later, Sam went lax. Lucifer lifted him into his arms and moved him to the bedroom. He laid him down on the bed and shifted him into what looked like a comfortable position. Sitting beside Sam, he laid a hand on his forehead to hope to ease the burn of the fever coursing through Sam."_

Castiel paused. "He seems... different."

"Yeah, demon blood withdrawal will do that to you, Cas," Dean said.

"No, although that is shocking to read, I don't mean Sam; I mean Lucifer. He is being gentle and consoling Sam. I never expected this."

"It's a new one on us all," Bobby said. "But let's just be thankful for it."

"_When Sam's eyes opened, he was looking up into a smiling face. It was not a friendly face, not Dean or Bobby or even Castiel. It was Ruby's face, and she looked delighted to see Sam again. 'Sam,' she said happily. 'It's been too long.'"_

Dean gasped. "Ruby!"

Castiel nodded. "That was what it says."

"Damn demon bitch," Dean said.

"_Sam tried to flinch away from her, but he found that he was pinned in place. Leather restraints encircled his wrists and ankles, and he was lying spread-eagled on some hard surface. She drew a knife from behind her, and Sam recognized it at once. It was the demon blade. 'You see this,' she said. 'Your brother slid this knife into me, killing me dead. Remember that, Sam?' Sam stared at her, his eyes wide with terror. 'I asked you a question!' she snapped, striking him across the cheek. 'I remember,' Sam said."_

Dean remembered, too. He remembered how good it felt to slide that knife into her and kill her dead, how it was the one good thing to happen in that nightmare of a week.

"'_Good. Now, I am going to take this blade and I am going to show you exactly how it feels. How do you think it will react to all that demon blood rushing through your veins, Sammy? Shall we find out?' She plunged the knife into Sam's thigh, and he cried out in pain. 'Hurts, doesn't it?' she said, twisting the blade. 'I remember, too.' She ripped the knife out of his flesh, and he could feel the blood soaking the leg of his sweats."_

"It's so real to him," Dean said. "The pain I get, that's easy to imagine, but the detail of it. It really screws him over, doesn't it."

Chuck cleared his throat. "I wish I could say I used artistic license, but I didn't. I have seen and experienced a lot of things since my dreams turned in to you guys, but Sam's withdrawal is the worst."

"_She tapped the blade against her chin. 'Now, that wasn't a very successful experiment. I wasn't looking carefully. I need a broader canvas.' She sliced away his sweatshirt and the tank underneath so his chest was laid bare to the cool air. 'This will do.' She didn't plunge the knife in this time. She rested the tip of the blade above his nipple and leaned on it slightly, just breaking the skin. She dragged it across him, creating swirling patterns in his flesh."_

Dean ran a hand over the healed wounds on his chest distractedly. Hearing of Sam's wounds brought to mind the horrors Alastair unleashed upon him, and he felt phantom wounds itch.

"_Sam cried out in pain, and he pleaded for her to stop, but she didn't. He felt the blood pooling around him, sticky and warm, and still she sliced at him. Looking down at his chest, he could see only red as she parted flesh in her own demented stylings. 'Anything to say now, Sam?' she asked. 'Do you want to apologize, perhaps?' Sam gritted his teeth. 'Yeah, I'm sorry, sorry I didn't get to kill you myself.'"_

Dean chuckled in spite of himself. It was a relief to know Sam still had some of his fight left in him. That was until Castiel cleared his throat and finished.

"_With a shriek of rage, she plunged the knife into his chest, driving it straight through his heart."_

"Jesus," Dean said in a whisper.

"_Sam began to gag and choke, and Lucifer quickly slipped a hand under his head, cradling it. 'Breathe, Sam,' Lucifer commanded. And then he did. It was slow and hitching but he breathed. 'That's it,' Lucifer said. 'Nice and slow. You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you.'_

Dean sighed and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "This is getting pretty twisted, Chuck. You sure this is all gonna happen."

Chuck nodded. "Every word of it. I've tried to tell you before, Sam's special."

"Special how?" Bobby asked.

Chuck shrugged. "I don't know. I just know that he is."

Dean listened in silence as Castiel read, but he couldn't hold back a groan as Sam asked his question. "'_Can't you just kill me?'"_

"Dammit, Sammy," he said. "You don't say shit like that. No matter how bad things get, that's not the answer."

"'_Of all the things I could do for you, you ask the one thing I cannot.' 'Because I am your vessel?' Sam asked. 'No, Sam, because you are you.' Lucifer laid a hand on Sam's brow and sent him to sleep again for a minute of peace."_

Castiel paused and Dean knew something bad was coming.

"Go on, Cas," he said, bracing himself. "We need to hear it."

Castiel sighed and continued. _" Sam rested for only a moment before his arms flailed out from his sides and his whole body began to shake. His head was tilted back and his elbows were curled in at his sides. Every muscle in his body seemed to be contracting. Sam's breaths came in a rasp, and Lucifer crouched on the bed beside him."_

"Dammit!" Dean gasped. "He's having a seizure!"

Sam was having a seizure and the only person there was a fallen angel without even basic first aid knowledge.

"Chuck, I swear on all that's holy, you better tell me the truth. Is Sam going to made it through this?"

Chuck nodded energetically. "He makes it through this day. I have seen it. I swear."

That assurance should have calmed Dean, but it didn't. He listened with a racing heart as Castiel continued down the page.

"'_Sam, it's okay. Relax for me, please,' Lucifer pleaded, but Sam either couldn't hear him or he was unable to obey. He continued to shudder and shake. Lucifer pressed his hand against Sam's temple and tried to send him to sleep again, but it didn't work. Lucifer saw blood drip down from Sam's clenched fists, and he struggled to uncurl Sam's fingers. When he did, he saw that Sam's fingernails had cut into his palm."_

"Dammit!" Dean cursed loudly. "What the hell good is he if he doesn't even know what's happening?"

"Keep reading, Cas," Chuck advises.

"_Slowly, painfully slowly, Sam's body relaxed and his breaths came easier again. His eyes stayed closed though, and he didn't respond to Lucifer's voice calling to him. He looked more comfortable than he had been since the withdrawal started, though. So Lucifer merely rested a hand on his side and watched the rise and fall of Sam's chest as he breathed."_

Dean exhaled a shaky breath. Sam got through it. It'd been close, but he made it through. Thinking that nothing else to came could be as bad as what they had already heard, he gestured for Castiel to continue.

Castiel looked apologetic as he spoke. "_The first thing Sam as he opened his eyes and looked around the room was Dean. He was sitting on the edge of the bed looking across at Sam."_

"Wait, what?" Dean said in a hoarse voice. "What the hell am I doing there?"

Chuck looked awkward, and he refused to meet Dean's eye.

"_Sam was so relieved to see his brother again that he didn't notice Dean's scowl at first. 'Dean, man, it's so good to see you. How did you get here? Where's Lucifer?' Dean scowled. 'I can't say the same about seeing you. You look like shit.'"_

"No! Hell, no!" Dean said. "I'm not hearing this shit. There's no way he is seeing me there."

"I'm sorry, Dean," Chuck said. "I had to write what I saw."

"We know you did," Bobby said before Dean could speak. "It's not your fault, Chuck." He turned his gaze on Dean. "And it's not yours either. No matter what happens now, it's not you doing it."

"You think that makes it easier?" Dean asked.

"Of course not, but you don't have to listen. None of us do. We know Sam makes it through the day. We can leave it there."

"I can't," Dean said. "If he has to live this, the least I can do is hear it."

Bobby nodded approvingly. "Okay then, Cas."

"_Sam ran a hand through his hair and tried to straighten his shirt. 'Sorry, it's just been rough day.' Dean laughed. 'You were always so pathetic. Look at you. You're such a waste.' Sam recoiled as if the words had physically hurt him. 'Why are you saying this?' Dean got to his feet and paced the length of the room. 'Because it's true, Sam, and I'm sick of pretending otherwise. I mean just look at what you've been doing lately.' 'What have I done?' 'You think we don't know? Chuck has seen it all. You and the Devil cozying it up in the diner, hanging onto his every word. What were you thinking, Sam?'"_

Dean knew it was not really him speaking, but hearing Sam's reactions he could picture the scene so easily. He could imagine how it must feel for his brother to be on the receiving end of these words.

"'_I did what I had to do,' Sam said defensively. 'Yeah, what you had to do was give us actual helpful information. You had Famine here in the hotel and you didn't raise a finger against him.' 'I couldn't help it. It was the blood.' 'Yes, the filthy demon blood that courses through your veins. As if it wasn't bad enough what Yellow-Eyes turned you into, you had to made it worse by sucking down the damn stuff. Making yourself even more of a freak than you already are.' Sam curled in on himself. It was everything he had ever feared Dean to be thinking."_

That was too much for Dean to hear, the fact that Sam had already been thinking those things. He crossed the room and grabbed up the fresh bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. He didn't care that it was early, he didn't care that Bobby was watching him disapprovingly, he only cared about what he had just heard. He opened the bottle and gulped down a mouthful. It burned his throat, but the burn was a welcome physical pain to overpower the emotional.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded to Castiel. "Get on with it."

"'_I could never love someone as filthy as you. Monster, Sam. You're a monster.' 'Dean, no.' 'And I tried so hard to pretend that we were brothers. That you weren't one of the filthy things that we hunt. But we're not even the same species. You're nothing to me.' 'Don't say that to me. Don't you say that to me.'"_

Dean wished there was something he could do, some way to reach Sam, but there was nothing. He could do nothing but listen as Castiel read his brother's horrors aloud.

"_Dean raised his hand and Sam saw the glint of the light on the demon blade. Dean smiled. 'Yeah, you see it, don't you, Sam. A demon blade to kill a demon child.' 'No!' Sam pleaded. 'Please don't!' Dean stepped forward and reached for Sam. He gripped Sam's hair and yanked his head back. Resting the knife directly over Sam's throat, he pressed down. 'Goodbye, Sam.' Sam felt the blade cut through his flesh and muscle, and blood poured from the wound, soaking his shirt. He choked and gasped, trying to draw breath, inhaling blood into his lungs."_

"It's not real, Dean," Bobby said gently. "He is okay."

Dean knew that, he knew it was not real, so why were his eyes burning, and why did he feel like he just killed his brother?


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Lucifer put Sam to sleep late on the second day, and this time, he stayed asleep. When he woke, eighteen hours later, he felt that the worst was over.

He raised his head from the sweat-soaked pillow and looked for Lucifer. He found him, sitting beside him on the bed, his back against the headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him. He looked at Sam, concern creasing his brow.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," Sam said. "I think it's over now."

Lucifer sighed with relief.

Sam threw back the blankets and pushed himself to the edge of the bed. His head swam and he felt weak, but when he stood, his legs held him.

"Are you sure you should be moving around?" Lucifer asked.

Sam nodded. "I can't stay in these clothes. I need to shower."

He went into the bathroom and turned on the water. As it ran to the correct temperature, he examined his reflection in the mirror. He looked terrible. His face was still covered with a sheen of sweat, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. He scrubbed a hand over his face and felt the days of stubble accumulated. He needed to shave, but first he needed to wash the sweat and dirt from his body.

He stepped under the hot water spray and raised his face to the water, feeling the sweat slickening his skin washing away. He looked down at his chest, seeing the his scars accumulated in a life spent hunting. Those were the only scars he had. His hallucination of Ruby slicing into his skin with the demon blade left none.

He stayed in the shower, scrubbing at his skin, for so long that Lucifer tapped on the door and asked if he was okay.

"I'm fine," Sam said. "Give me a moment."

He stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and then stood at the sink to shave.

He felt no embarrassment as he walked back into the bedroom wearing only a towel. Lucifer had seen him at him most vulnerable, and he didn't turn away. There was nothing Sam could do with him that will embarrass him now.

"You look better," Lucifer observed.

"I feel it, too."

He went to his duffel and rooted through it for some clean clothes. Lucifer stood and told Sam there was something he needed to attend to. Sam nodded reluctantly. He was not sure he wanted to be alone already.

"It will not take me long," Lucifer said. "Call me if you need me."

"Okay."

With a soft rustling sound, Lucifer was gone and Sam was alone.

He flicked on the television for company and got dressed. He then sat on the end of the bed and rested his palms on his knees.

Strangely, tears pricked at his eyes, and he was overcome with an aching loneliness. He wished more than anything that he was at Bobby's with the rest of them, sharing a beer and good company. Knowing he was one step away from losing it all together, he called to Lucifer.

Lucifer appeared and looked closely at Sam. "You're upset."

Sam nodded and rubbed at his eyes. "I need a distraction."

Lucifer looked pleased. "What would you like to do?"

In answer, Sam's stomach rumbles loudly. "I think I should probably eat."

Lucifer looked uncertain. "Are you sure you're ready? You have been very unwell."

"I'm sure," Sam said. "I think that's part of why I feel so shaky. Us humans need to eat regularly, and it's been a few days."

Lucifer nodded. "Would you like to order here or would you prefer to go out?"

"I'd like to go out," Sam said. He had spent enough time suffering in the room; he needed a break from it.

"Very well," Lucifer said, holding out a hand.

Sam took it without hesitation and allowed Lucifer to ease him to his feet. As they walked out of the room, Lucifer kept a hand on the small of Sam's back, as if he expected him to falter. The touch didn't bother Sam. He found it comforting to know that Lucifer wasn't flinching away from him.

The cool air hit Sam as he stepped out of the hotel's double doors. It was evening. Sam tried to calculate how many days he'd lost in the withdrawal. He had lost track of the date, as there was never any need to know during his time with Lucifer. He would have to buy a newspaper in the morning.

When they came to the diner, Sam saw that Shirley was nowhere in sight. Relieved, he didn't think he was up to her flirting with Lucifer today, he went to their usual booth and sat down. An elderly lady wearing a pink apron came to their table, handed them the menu, and took their drink order. Sam ordered a coke, thinking the sugar would do him good. Lucifer ordered coffee and smiled at Sam's raised eyebrow. "I have come to like the smell," he said.

Sam laughed. That conversation seemed like a lifetime ago. So much had changed since then.

Sam scanned through the menu, looking for something that he wanted, and he paused when he saw the soups. His stomach was better but it was still not great. He didn't want to risk upsetting it again anytime soon.

The waitress came over to the booth and smiled at Sam. "What can I get you, hon?"

"Chicken noodle soup, please."

She nodded and looked to Lucifer. "And you?"

"Nothing for me, thank you," he said politely.

The waitress went back to the counter, and Sam fiddled with the sugar packets in their container, sorting them into colors. He felt unexpectedly uneasy.

"What's wrong?" Lucifer asked. "You are more… twitchy than usual."

Sam drew a deep breath. "I need to say something."

Lucifer nodded for him to continue, and Sam chewed his lip.

"Thank you," he said in a quiet voice.

Lucifer's brow creased with confusion. "For what?"

"Taking care of me. I remember most of it, and I remember what you did for me."

"I told you I would take care of you, Sam," Lucifer said. "What did you expect me to do?"

Sam looked down at the table. What he had expected was for Lucifer to lock him away somewhere alone to ride it out. He never expected him to show the care and tenderness he had. He didn't know how to put his gratitude into words.

Lucifer sighed. "You expected me to do what your brother and Mr. Singer did?"

Sam nodded reluctantly. "Yeah."

"I am not cruel, Sam."

"Neither are they," Sam said immediately. "They were doing the right thing. There was no need for them to suffer through it with me."

Lucifer tilted his head to the side. "Perhaps they aren't, but I cared for you too much to leave you to suffer alone."

Sam knew Dean and Bobby cared about him, too. That was one of the few things he was sure about in what had become a very confusing time for him. They cared about him, and if they thought it would have made a difference, they would have been there for him like Lucifer was. He hadn't deserved their comfort at that time. He had betrayed them both repeatedly, lying to them. He hadn't deserved Lucifer's comfort either, but that hadn't seemed to matter to the fallen angel.

The waitress arrived with Sam's food, and he ate slowly, not wanting to overwhelm his stomach.

Lucifer cleared his throat and Sam looked up. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I want to ask you something, and it may be too personal," Lucifer said.

Lucifer had seen Sam at his very worst. There was no more too personal between them.

"Ask," he said.

"You called out at times during the process of withdrawal. You called to God. I was wondering why."

Sam looked puzzled. "Why I called out to God?"

Lucifer nodded.

Sam set down his spoon and looked intently out of the window as he considered his answer. "My family has never been what you would call religious, but I have always had faith. I always believed in God and angels. Then Dean died, and I started to doubt him. If there was a god, how could he let Dean die for me? It wasn't fair. I tried to made deals with demons, and that didn't work, so I prayed. Then Dean came back. Angels brought him back. I call out to God because, for whatever reason, he answered my prayer once, and I can't help hoping he'll do it again."

Lucifer looked thoughtful. "You know it wasn't my father that answered your prayers, don't you? Your brother was returned to earth as he is a vital piece in what is happening now."

Sam shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me who did it. I got my brother back. That's what matters."

Lucifer frowned. "But it wasn't God answering your prayer."

"It doesn't matter," Sam said again.

Lucifer's mouth pressed into a hard line. "But it clearly matters to you."

"And apparently to you, too," Sam said. "Why?"

Lucifer considered for a moment. "I don't truly know. I suppose I don't want you to feel foolish when you learn the truth."

"And what truth is that?"

Lucifer sighed. "It doesn't matter. Finish your food."

Sam dutifully picked up his spoon and finished his soup.

* * *

"Do you feel up to walking some more, or do you need to rest?" Lucifer asked when they left the diner.

"A walk sounds good," Sam said.

Lucifer led Sam through the streets and they came to a small park.

They strolled along the paths, coming to a fountain in the center. Lucifer gestured for Sam to sit, and he did, letting his fingers drop into the cool water. It was dusk, and the park was almost deserted. Birds were roosting, and their song added to the ambient sounds of the evening.

Sam looked around him, and he wondered how anyone could want to end all this.

"You're looking thoughtful," Lucifer said.

Sam shook his head. "I don't want to argue."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Now I have to know what you're thinking."

Sam sighed. "I was just thinking how good this all was and wondering how you could want to end it."

"I don't want to end the world, Sam," Lucifer said.

"What about this epic battle between you and Michael that is supposed to tear the world apart."

Lucifer looked genuinely surprised. "I don't want that. Nothing could grieve me more than to fight my brother."

"But then why do you want me to say yes?"

"Because Michael wants the fight, and I have to defend myself. Believe me, Sam. I have no desire to end the world."

"But you want to end humanity."

"Humans..." Lucifer frowned. "I don't know what to tell you, Sam."

"I'm human," Sam said. "Do you want to end me?"

Lucifer looked him deep in the eyes. "I want that even less than I want to fight my brother."

"Then why do it? How do you see this ending, Lucifer? Me being the only company for you in your new world, with no other humans, just you and your demons."

"My demons will eventually be destroyed, too."

Sam raised his hands in frustration. "You're recreating the cage on earth. You will be just as alone."

Lucifer frowned. "If you say yes to me, we will be together forever. We will reside in the same body, your spirit and my own, together."

"And what about what I want?" Sam asked. "What about Dean and Bobby and Cas? I don't want them to die. Don't you see? I can never say yes, because that will be their end as well as mine. You will kill them all."

"If I swore that I wouldn't kill the people you cared about, would you say yes?"

Sam shook his head. "No, because it's not just them, Lucifer. It's everyone. I can't be responsible for the world's death. If you think the death of that family broke me..."

The corners of Lucifer's mouth turn down slightly. He appeared in deep thought. He blinked and then looked to his hands clasped in his lap and he sighed. "It would tear you apart." He was speaking to himself more than to Sam.

That's the one thing Sam couldn't get past. Lucifer knew what it would do to him, but he wanted to do it anyway. He thought he had come to know Lucifer well, especially over the last few days. He saw what kind of man he was, and despite himself, he liked him, but he can't reconcile that man with the being that wanted to end the world. It was as if Lucifer was two people, one of them had held Sam as he suffered through withdrawal with more care than anyone had ever shown Sam outside of his small family, and the other wanted to be the one to tear that family apart.

What frightened Sam was the fact that, even knowing what Lucifer was capable of and what he wanted to achieve, he sympathized with him and he had even came to care for him. That thought made him feel more than a little ashamed of himself.

He wondered what Dean was thinking now.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

Dean was sitting out on the front porch, nursing a mug of coffee. In the background, he could hear Chuck clicking away at the keyboard. Dean wondered what was to come in these pages. At the end of the last day's pages, Sam was sleeping. Dean hoped that portended an end to the withdrawal process.

He stood and tossed the dregs of his coffee onto the grass and went back into the house. Bobby was seated at the desk, cleaning his gun. Castiel wasn't home; he was out on the God hunt. Dean hoped he had some luck soon, as it looked like God was the only being capable of getting Sam away from Lucifer.

Pouring more coffee, he went to sit on the edge of the desk. "So, Chuck, you got good news for me?" he asked.

"Yeah, Sam is getting through the last of it now. He is going to sleep a lot more, but when he wakes up, it will be over."

Dean exhaled a shaky breath.

"Two days," Bobby said thoughtfully. "That damn fool was almost through with it when he bust out of the panic room last time."

Dean nodded. The same thought had occurred to him.

There was a rustling sound, and Dean turned, expecting to see Castiel, but the person looking back at him was not Castiel. Dean's hand snapped back and he grabbed Bobby's gun. He aimed it and pulled the trigger on an empty barrel.

"Dammit!" he cursed.

"Temper, temper, Dean. That's no way to treat a guest."

Bobby slid opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out his pistol. He leveled it at the intruder and spoke in a low growl. "You best tell me what you're doing here or I'm going to empty the barrel of this thing into your head."

"Now, Bobby," the man chided. "You and I both know that's not loaded."

Chuck was staring between the newcomer and Dean and looking extremely confused. "I know you!" he said. "You're the Trickster!"

"Ah, that's one smart prophet you've got yourself there, Dean," the Trickster said.

"Cas!" Dean bellows. "We need you now!"

"Now, Dean, there's no need to go calling your guardian angel. I'm not here for trouble. If I was, do you think Raphael would be so quiet?"

There was a second rustling sound and Castiel appeared. His blade was drawn, and he looked directly at the Trickster. "Do I kill him, Dean?" he asked.

The Trickster laughed. "Oh, you're too funny. I can see why they keep you around."

"Dean?" Castiel prompted.

Dean raised his hand. "Hang on, Cas. I want to know what the hell he wants. As soon as I get that out of him, you can play hack away with the angel blade all you like."

The Trickster rolled his eyes. "Oooh, scary."

"Enough of this bullshit," Dean snapped. "What do you want?"

The Trickster tapped his chin. "I want to tell you a story."

Dean raised an eyebrow but he didn't speak.

"See, I had the most wonderful game planned for you and your brother. You wouldn't believe the work I put into it. Weeks of planning and dry-walling, but it was all for nothing." He sighed and put his hands on his hips. "Damn inconsiderate if you ask me."

"What was the game?" Dean asked. "You going to kill me over and over again?"

The Trickster frowned. "I am nothing if not original, and that is so 2008."

"Okay," Bobby said. "What was this great, _original_ idea you had?"

The Trickster waved an airy hand. "It doesn't matter. It's one of those 'you had to be there' things. The point is that I put a lot of work into it, and it's all been wasted. You nitwits haven't gotten the message."

"What was the message?" Dean asked.

"That you must play your roles."

Dean looked at him blankly. "Our roles?"

The Trickster clapped his hands and looked excited. "Oh, you know. Sam starring as Lucifer. Dean starring as Michael. Your celebrity death match. Play your roles."

"You want us to say yes to those sons of bitches?" Dean asked.

"Hells yeah. Let's light this candle! You're holding up the line here, Dean. Your brother is already primed and ready for the yes vote. All we're waiting on is you, big boy."

"You know about Sam?" Dean asked.

"Well, duh! Who doesn't? Little Sammy's the talk of the town. Ever since he signed up to be Lucifer's bunk buddy. He is set to say yay."

Dean huffed and crossed the room. "Whatever everyone is saying, they're wrong. Sam isn't saying yes anytime soon." He snatched up the wad of pages that had accumulated since Sam's imprisonment and shoved them into the Trickster's chest. "Read this!"

The Trickster grins. "You have a story for me? How sweet. I didn't bring anything for you."

"Just read," Dean said through gritted teeth.

The Trickster flopped down Bobby's bed and kicked his feet up. Dean expected Bobby to shoot him right then on principle.

The Trickster flipped through the pages, barely skimming the words.

"I said read," Dean growled.

"I am," the Trickster said innocently. "Just because Castiel reads like an old woman, doesn't mean we all do."

Castiel's eyes widened and he gaped at the Trickster. "But you..."

"Goodbye, Castiel," the Trickster said, not looking up. He clicked his fingers and Castiel vanished.

"What the hell?" Dean gasped. "What did you do to him?"

"I sent him away for a moment. Don't worry, your puppy will find its way home eventually."

The Trickster got to his feet and put the papers down on the desk. "Not a bad read, Chuck. Not your greatest work; it needs a little more romance."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bobby demanded.

The Trickster frowned and looked to Chuck. "Are they always this grouchy?"

Chuck nodded jerkily. "Umm... Yeah."

The Trickster laughed. "Well, I've got things to do and people to see. I'll leave you chuckleheads in peace." He pats the pages on the desk and grins. "Ahh, Lucifer. What have you been doing, my dear brother?"

"Brother!" Dean and Bobby say at the same time, but there was no answer. With another rustling sound, the Trickster was gone.

"What the...? Who the...? Can someone tell me what just happened, please?" Chuck said.

"Just as soon as we know, we'll fill you in," Bobby said in a breathless voice.

There was a rustling sound, and Dean turned, expecting the Trickster again, but it was Castiel standing behind him, looking stunned.

"Cas, man, are you okay?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine," Castiel said. "It seems my brother has an interesting sense of humor."

"Your brother?" Dean said incredulously. "Who the hell was that?"

Castiel smiled. "That was my brother, Gabriel."

"As in _the _Gabriel? The archangel?" Bobby asked.

"Yes."

"Okay, you're gonna need to explain this to me in short words," Dean said. "'Cause I'm feeling a little slow."

"That was my brother, Gabriel. Gabriel is an archangel."

"But how?" Dean asked breathlessly.

"To tell the truth, I don't know," Castiel said. "He was lost millennia ago. Shortly after Lucifer's fall from grace. We believed he was dead."

"Well, he's obviously not." Dean said.

"This is indeed good news," Castiel said. "This news brings me much joy."

"And I'm happy for you," Dean said. "But let's jump back a few pages. How can he be a trickster? I thought the archangels were all pissy pains in the ass without a sense of humor."

Castiel smiled. "He was always the most facetious of the archangels. He was Lucifer's favorite."

Dean sank back down onto the edge of the desk and raked a hand through his hair. "Lucifer's favorite. Well, that's just fantastic. Now we've got two psycho fallen angels on us."

"Gabriel is not a psycho," Castiel said, frowning. "Nor is he fallen in the technical sense of the term."

"Easy for you to say. He didn't kill you a hundred different ways," Dean said brutally.

Castiel nodded serenely. "That must have been very difficult for you."

"For me? Try damn torture, and not for me, for Sam. He remembers every one of those days and every way I was killed. Your brother is a prime dick!"

"Scroll back to the psycho part," Bobby said. "If he was Lucifer's favorite... Did we just give a whole load of information to the wrong guy?"

Castiel considered for a moment. "I do not believe Gabriel will join Lucifer in his quest to end the world."

"He seemed pretty gung-ho about getting a yes from me," Dean said.

Castiel nodded but didn't speak.

"You got no insight into that?" Bobby asked hopefully.

Chuck cleared his throat. "He didn't seem to weigh in on either side when he was talking to you, Dean. He seemed more concerned with you playing your role. Perhaps he is on Michael's side."

"Did he give any idea of where he was going next?" Castiel asked.

"Nope," Dean said, shrugging. "He just dropped the 'Lucifer is my brother' bomb on us and disappeared. By the way, where did he send you?"

"To an establishment called the Spearmint Rhino."

Dean laughed. "Okay, he may be a dick, but he has got a sense of humor."

"You got any insight on this, Chuck?" Bobby asked. "Can you see him with Lucifer?"

"Not today," Chuck said. "But if he doesn't actually made contact with Sam, I won't see him at all. I cannot follow Lucifer's path."

"So we're screwed," Dean said bitterly. "We may have just sent Lucifer a brand new sidekick and there's not a thing we can do about it."

Chuck laughed nervously, drawing all eyes to him.

"What's so funny, Chuckles?" Dean asked.

"I was just thinking. If we have sent him to Lucifer, Sam is going to have an interesting reaction to him. He'll be sporting a stake through the heart in no time."

"Yeah, and what do you think Lucifer will do if Sam kills his new playmate?"

Chuck shook his head. "Nothing. You aren't listening to me. Sam is special."

"I am listening," Dean said. "I'm just not believing."

Bobby clapped his hands together. "Anyway... You got some pages for us, Chuck? I want to hear how Sam's doing."

Dean's preoccupation with Gabriel and Lucifer was forgotten at the thought of more news of Sam, and he looked expectantly at Chuck.

"Yeah, give me a minute to finish, and I'll have them ready for you."

It took Chuck more than a minute to finish the pages, and by the time he was done, Dean was waiting at the printer, ready to snatch up the first page.

Dean skimmed through Sam's shower and conversation with Lucifer, coming to a stop when he read Sam uncharacteristic show of emotion.

"_Strangely, tears pricked at his eyes, and he was overcome with an aching loneliness. He wished more than anything that he was at Bobby's with the rest of them, sharing a beer and good company. Knowing he was one step away from losing it all together, he called to Lucifer. Lucifer appeared and looked closely at Sam. 'You're upset.'"_ Dean raised an eyebrow. "Smart guy, Lucifer, of course he is upset. He is coming down from withdrawal, and he can't be with the people he needs."

"I know," Bobby said consolingly. "We'll get him back soon enough."

"I don't know if that's enough, Bobby," Dean said. "There's something up with Sam in these pages. He is different."

"What do you mean?"

In response, Dean read aloud. "'_I'd like to go out,' Sam said. He had spent enough time suffering in the room; he needed a break from it. 'Very well,' Lucifer said, holding out a hand. Sam took it without hesitation and allowed Lucifer to ease him to his feet. As they walked out of the room, Lucifer kept a hand on the small of Sam's back, as if he expected him to falter. The touch didn't bother Sam. He found it comforting to know that Lucifer wasn't flinching away from him after seeing him at his very worst."_

"Yeah, I see what you mean," Bobby said. "Lucifer's being a bit touchy-feely."

"That's not what's bothering me," Dean said. "Though it's weird in its own right. It's the fact it doesn't bother Sam that's got me thinking. He is not exactly a hugger."

Bobby scrubbed a hand through his beard. "I don't know. He is definitely more tactile than you. Maybe this is just Sam's way of coping. He said he was still feeling weak and shaky, maybe Lucifer is helping him."

"Yeah, maybe," Dean said.

Dean skimmed through the pages of their arrival at the diner and ordering food.

"_The waitress went back to the counter, and Sam fiddled with the sugar packets in their container, sorting them into colors. He felt unexpectedly uneasy. 'What's wrong?' Lucifer asked. 'You are more… twitchy than usual.' Sam drew a deep breath. 'I need to say something.' Lucifer nodded for him to continue and Sam chewed his lip. 'Thank you,' he said in a quiet voice. Lucifer's brow creased with confusion. 'For what?' 'Taking care of me. I remember most of it, and I remember what you did for me.' 'I told you I would take care of you, Sam,' Lucifer said. 'What did you expect me to do?'"_

Dean stopped reading. He knew exactly what Sam was expecting him to do. He was expecting Lucifer to left him to suffer alone like he and Bobby had. He felt Bobby's eyes on him and guessed he was thinking the same thing. Not wanting to get into another discussion about how they had failed Sam, he read on.

"_Sam looked down at the table. What he had expected was for Lucifer to lock him away somewhere alone to ride it out. He never expected him to show the care and tenderness he had. He didn't know how to put his gratitude into words. Lucifer sighed. 'You expected me to do what your brother and Mr. Singer did?' Sam nodded reluctantly. 'Yeah.' 'I am not cruel, Sam.'"_

"Neither were we," Bobby said harshly.

Dean looked across at him. "Weren't we? We left him there alone, Bobby."

"We didn't know what form the withdrawal would take," Bobby said doggedly. "He could have been violent for all we knew. Just 'cause we weren't there holding his hand, doesn't mean we don't care."

"'_Neither are they,' Sam said immediately. 'They were doing the right thing. There was no need for them to suffer through it with me.' Lucifer tilted his head to the side. 'Perhaps they aren't, but I care for you too much to leave you to suffer alone.'"_

"He cares too much," Dean said, looking to Chuck. "What _exactly _does that mean?"

Chuck raised his hands. "I don't know. I can't read Lucifer's mind."

"But you clearly know something," Bobby said. "So spit it out."

Chuck rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably. "All I know it that things are changing. I've told you this before. I don't know what this means for Sam or Lucifer, but if you keep reading, you'll see what I mean."

Far from satisfied with Chuck's answer, Dean read on. He was pleased that Sam at least knew he and Bobby cared about him. He reminded himself that what Lucifer thought didn't matter. As long as Sam knew the truth, they were good.

"_Lucifer cleared his throat, and Sam looked up. 'What's wrong?' he asked. 'I want to ask you something, and it may be too personal,' Lucifer said. Lucifer had seen Sam at his very worst now. There was no more too personal between them."_

Dean didn't like that. It sounded like the withdrawal had forged some kind of bond between Sam and Lucifer. He didn't want Sam having any kind of connection with the Devil. It could only end badly.

His thoughts tangled and become confused, and he set the papers down on the desk. "Am I the only one seeing a big flashing danger sign over these pages?" he asked.

"You're not alone," Bobby said.

"I think perhaps Sam is confused by Lucifer's ability to enthrall his subject," Castiel said. "But what we can do about it, I do not know."

"That's the problem," Dean said bitterly. "We've got to get Sam away from him."

Castiel frowned. "If you have any idea of how to accomplish that, I am willing to aid you in whatever way I can."

"I know you are, man. It's just that I don't have the first idea how. It's these pages; they are getting to me."

"Would you prefer it if I read?" Castiel asked.

Dean held out the pages to him. He didn't care who read anymore. He had other things to worry about, namely Sam's new bond with Satan.

Castiel cleared his throat. "'_Ask,' he said. 'You called out at times during the process of withdrawal. You called to God. I was wondering why.' Sam looked puzzled. 'Why I called out to God?' Lucifer nodded. Sam set down his spoon and looked intently out of the window as he considered his answer. 'My family has never been what you would call religious, but I have always had faith. I always believed in God and angels. Then Dean died, and I started to doubt him. If there was a god, how could he let Dean die for me? It wasn't fair. I tried to made deals with demons, and that didn't work, so I prayed. Then Dean came back. Angels brought him back. I call out to God because, for whatever reason, he answered my prayer once, and I can't help hoping he'll do it again.'"_

Dean was surprised by the answer. He hadn't considered the fact Sam had called out to God during his withdrawal. He'd thought his brother had given up having any faith a long time ago.

"_Lucifer looked thoughtful. 'You know it wasn't my father that answered your prayers, don't you? Your brother was returned to earth as he is a vital piece in what's happening now.' Sam shrugged. 'It doesn't matter to me who did it. I got my brother back. That's what matters.' Lucifer frowned. 'But it wasn't God answering your prayer.'"_

"Who was it?" Dean asked Castiel.

Castiel looked apologetic. "I do not know who gave the initial order for you to be raised. There are many echelons of power in Heaven, and I was just a piece in them."

Dean shrugged, as if the answer didn't matter to him, but inside he was burning with curiosity. Who was the one that decided he should be raised.

"If I was to hazard a guess, I would say the order came from Michael," Castiel said. "What was happening on earth at that time—Sam hunting Lilith. Her going after the sixty-six seals—set us on the path we are on today, to the apocalypse. You were... you _are _needed for that fight."

Dean nodded thoughtfully. He may be a dick that wanted Dean as a meat suit, but if it was him that took Dean out of Hell, he owed Michael a thank you. He gestured for Castiel to keep reading. He wanted these pages over and done with.

"'_It doesn't matter,' Sam said again. Lucifer's mouth pressed into a hard line. 'But it clearly matters to you.' 'And apparently to you, too,' Sam said. 'Why?' Lucifer considered for a moment. 'I don't truly know. I suppose I don't want you to feel foolish when you learn the truth.' 'And what truth is that?' Lucifer sighed. 'It doesn't matter. Finish your food.'"_

"What truth is that, Cas?" Bobby asked.

"I can only imagine that Lucifer believes, as does Raphael, that my father has gone. I do not believe that. I will not believe it. He is out there somewhere, and I will find him."

Bobby cracked his knuckles. "Here, give me a turn with those pages."

Castiel handed them over and went to stand against the wall.

"'_Do you feel up to walking some more, or do you need to rest?' Lucifer asked when they left the diner. 'A walk sounds good,' Sam said. He wasn't ready to go back to the hotel yet. Lucifer led Sam through the streets and they came to a small park. They strolled along the paths, coming to a fountain in the center. Lucifer gestured for Sam to sit, and he did, letting his fingers drop into the cool water. It was dusk, and the park was almost deserted. Birds were roosting, and their song added to the ambient sounds of the evening."_

"Well, this is just great," Dean said. "They've gone on a romantic stroll. If this was what you mean by things changing, Chuck, you better tell me now, as I need at least a bottle of whiskey in my system before I consider that idea."

Chuck gave Dean a baleful look, but he didn't speak, and Bobby continued to read.

"_Sam looked around him and he wondered how anyone could want to end all this. 'You're looking thoughtful,' Lucifer said. Sam shook his head. 'I don't want to argue.' Lucifer raised an eyebrow. 'Now I have to know what you're thinking.' Sam sighed. 'I was just thinking how good this all was and wondering how you could want to end it.' 'I don't want to end the world, Sam,' Lucifer said."_

"Hold up!" Dean said. "What the hell? Lucifer is all about the end of the world, right? Or have I missed something?"

"Would you stop interrupting, boy, and just let me read," Bobby said irritably.

"'_What about this epic battle between you and Michael that is supposed to tear the world apart.' Lucifer looked genuinely surprised. 'I don't want that. Nothing could grieve me more than to fight my brother.' 'But then why do you want me to say yes?' 'Because Michael wants the fight, and I have to defend myself. Believe me, Sam. I have no desire to end the world.'"_

"Huh," Bobby said. "So, what was his deal? You said when Zachariah zapped you to future world that it was screwed to hell."

"It was," Dean said.

"Then what's he saying to Sam?"

Dean shrugged. "You think I know? I'm as clueless in this as you are, Bobby."

Chuck cleared his throat. "Sam is about to answer that question for us."

"'_But you want to end humanity.' 'Humans...' Lucifer frowned. 'I don't know what to tell you, Sam.' 'I'm human,' Sam said. 'Do you want to end me?' Lucifer looked him deep in the eyes. 'I want that even less than I want to fight my brother.' 'Then why do it? How do you see this ending, Lucifer? Me being the only company for you in your new world, with no other humans, just you and your demons.' 'My demons will eventually be destroyed, too.'"_

"That's new," Bobby said. "If we could just talk him down from the ending humanity part, this sounds like a world I can get behind."

"No more demons," Dean said. "Hell, that's something I could get behind, too."

"_Sam raised his hands in frustration. 'You're recreating the cage on earth. You will be just as alone.' Lucifer frowned. 'If you say yes to me, we will be together forever. We will reside in the same body, your spirit and my own, together.' 'And what about what I want?' Sam asked. 'What about Dean and Bobby and Cas? I don't want them to die. Don't you see? I can never say yes, because that will be their end as well as mine. You will kill them all.' 'If I swore that I wouldn't kill the people you care about, would you say yes?'"_

Bobby broke off and the attention in the room changed palpably. Everyone was tensely awaiting Sam's response.

"_Sam shook his head. 'No, because it's not just them, Lucifer. It's everyone. I can't be responsible for the world's death. If you think the death of that family broke me...' The corners of Lucifer's mouth turn down slightly. He appeared in deep thought. He blinked and then looked to his hands clasped in his lap and he sighed. 'It would tear you apart.' He was speaking to himself more than to Sam."_

"Thank crap for that," Dean said, massaging his chest. "My heart was going a mile a minute there."

"Mine too," Bobby said. "Chuck, do us a favor, cut down on the dramatics, huh."

Chuck smiled. "I'll do my best, but I am only transcribing what I am seeing happen." He looked at Dean and there was an apology in his expression. "Before Bobby reads more, just remember that, okay. I don't control them."

Dean nodded slowly. "You're kinda worrying me, Chuck."

Chuck sighed. "I know."

"_That's the one thing Sam couldn't get past. Lucifer knew what it would do to him, but he wanted to do it anyway. He thought he had come to know Lucifer well, especially over the last few days. He saw what kind of man he was, and despite himself, he liked him, but he can't reconcile that man with the being that wanted to end the world. It was as if Lucifer was two people, one of them held him as he suffered through withdrawal with more care than anyone had ever shown Sam outside of his small family, and the other wanted to be the one to tear that family apart."_

Bobby's eyes skimmed down the page and he looked up at Chuck. "Are you serious?"

Chuck nodded.

"What? What's going on?" Dean asked, making a grab at the papers.

In response, Bobby read aloud. "_What frightened Sam was the fact that, even knowing what Lucifer was capable of and what he wanted to achieve, he sympathized with him, and he had even came to care for him. That thought made him feel more than a little ashamed of himself. He wondered what Dean was thinking now."_

"Jesus Christ," Dean said breathlessly.

"Calm down," Bobby said.

"Calm! Seriously, Bobby, you want me to be calm? Did you take in what you just read?"

"Of course, I did."

"Then what's there to be calm about? Sam's not slipping, he's slipped. He's going darkside and there's not a damn thing we can do about it." He turned to Chuck. "Chuck, man, tell me you know where Lucifer has Sam holed up."

Chuck shook his head. "I'm sorry. I only know they're in the Detroit area. I don't know an exact location."

"What are you thinking?" Castiel asked.

"What the hell do you think I'm thinking?" Dean asked. "I'm finding my brother and getting him out of there before he can say yes."

"How?" Bobby asked. "Even if we knew where he was, we have no weapon to use against Lucifer. We would be killed before we got within a foot of Sam."

"Weapon!" Dean slaps his hand down on the desk. "We need the damn Colt."

"The Colt Bela sold and shipped halfway across the world?"

"Actually..." Chuck raised his hand.

"Yes, that Colt," Dean said.

"I said actually," Chuck said loudly.

"And how are we supposed to track it down?" Bobby asked. "That was over a year ago. It could be anywhere by now."

"Guys!" Chuck shouted.

"What?" Dean and Bobby snapped.

"I know where the Colt is, kinda. Have you ever heard of a demon called Crowley?"


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Lucifer was sitting on the desk chair with his feet crossed at the ankle, watching Sam sleep. It had become somewhat of a routine for him now. He waited until Sam was asleep, then he stole into the room. Sam asleep was very different to Sam awake. He looked different. There was an openness there, both physical and emotional, when he was sleeping.

During the day, that openness was lost in a mask of strength and solitude. Sam didn't ever truly relax when with Lucifer. He was more relaxed than he was in the beginning, but there was still the barrier of Lucifer's true self that forced him to remain strong, as if he feared the yes would creep out without his constant vigilance.

He looked different, too, almost childlike, despite his size. His features relaxed and changed according to whatever he saw in his dreams. Sometimes they were bad, and Lucifer detested those nights. He hated to see Sam suffering.

Sam sighed and rolled over in his sleep, turning his back on Lucifer. Lucifer was considering relocating, so as to be able to see Sam's face, when he heard a voice call out in the lobby.

"Oh, Lucy, I'm home!"

Lucifer rose to his feet in one swift movement and crossed the room. He checked Sam, but he was still sleeping peacefully. Striding out into the hall, he prepared himself to deal with whichever of his inept demons had decided tonight was the night to die. He made it to the stairs, and then he stopped dead in his tracks.

There was a man standing in the hall. He was short in stature and he had sandy brown hair that hung just past his ears. He would be utterly unremarkable if not for _who_ it was. Lucifer recognized him immediately, despite the fact he had taken a vessel. The man looked up and a wide smile creased his face.

Lucifer's feet carried him down the stairs to stand in front of his visitor. "Gabriel?"

Gabriel's smile widened. "Hello, brother."

Lucifer stepped forward and pulled Gabriel into an embrace. Gabriel's hands fisted in the back of Lucifer's shirt and he tightened against him. For a moment, Lucifer was transported back across the millennia to the last time he saw his brother. When life was good and he was one of Heaven's brightest. Before his father betrayed them all by creating humanity.

He stepped back and cupped Gabriel's face in his hands. "I have missed you, brother."

"Yeah, me too," Gabriel said. He twirled, taking in the ornate lobby. "Nice place you've got here."

Lucifer looked around at the embellishments that meant nothing to him. He chose it merely because he thought it would be more comfortable for Sam.

"It serves its purpose," Lucifer said.

Gabriel's eyes found Lucifer's, and he felt that he was pinned beneath their gaze. "And what purpose would that be?"

Lucifer frowned. "You know what I am doing, Gabriel."

"I know what you _were _doing," he corrected. "I also heard that you've been working against yourself."

Lucifer looked at him blankly. He didn't understand what Gabriel was talking about. His plans were all in order. Pestilence was still spreading the swine flu virus and there had been promising results from the first experiments with the Croatoan virus. Things were moving along nicely. It was true that he hadn't raised Death yet, but that was just because of the demon blood incident. As soon as he was sure Sam was through the ill effects of that, he would move along with that step. Things were right on track. Almost.

"What are you talking about?" Lucifer asked.

"Well, I hear you lopped off Famine's hand. How are you supposed to use him now he is an even bigger wreck of a man? Let me guess, he is curled up in the fetal position, drooling like an idiot."

Lucifer shrugged nonchalantly. "I wouldn't know. I sent him away as soon as I was done with him."

Gabriel laughed. "And yet you say you don't know what I mean. Lucifer, this is me you're talking to."

"I have not forgotten. I accept there have been delays, but that's all. Besides, how do you know about Famine? Have you been consorting with demons, too?"

Gabriel gave an affected shudder. "Ew, no. I leave that to you, dear brother. I merely paid a visit to some old friends and I got the skinny."

Lucifer sighed. "You have seen the prophet."

"I have, and let me tell you, he is so much more fun than Noah. He is not obsessed with boatbuilding. In fact, give this guy a bottle of whiskey and a word processor and he is content."

Lucifer smiled. "What did he tell you?"

"Him, nothing. I read the scriptures."

Lucifer looked at him blankly and he smiled.

"It seems the prophet has been writing a chapter for each day Sam has been with you. They have some kind of reading ceremony together. It's really quite adorable."

Lucifer had wondered how the prophet was passing on his information. Now he knew. He had to admit, it was an ingenious arrangement. That way they got all the news of Sam. He gave credit to the humans; they were capable of originality.

"I trust you also saw Dean and Mr. Singer."

"Don't forget Castiel. Yes, I saw our dear brother, too. Banishment is not suiting him well. He looked to Dean Winchester for orders."

Lucifer frowned. "That's a shame. What orders did he ask for?"

"Whether or not to kill me," Gabriel said, shrugging. "He had his little blade ready and all." He clapped a hand to his chest and spoke in an affected tone. "I feared for my life."

Lucifer chuckled. It'd been a long time since he had felt amusement outside of what Sam evoked in him, and he was not surprised that it was Gabriel that was the one to draw laughter from him.

"So, other than ordering angels around and reading what amounts to Sam's daybook, how are they?"

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Is that concern for humans I hear, Lucifer?"

"Hardly. I am asking for Sam's benefit. He will be glad of news of them."

"Is _that_ concern for a human, Lucifer?"

"It's concern for Sam. He hardly counts as a human. He is different."

Gabriel clapped his hands. "So I hear. You want to tell me about that?"

"I don't know what you mean," Lucifer said blandly.

Gabriel nudged his shoulder. "'Course you don't."

"Not that I am not pleased to see you, Gabriel, because I am, but did you have a reason for visiting?"

"You fed up with me already?" Gabriel asked, his mouth turning down at the corners. "And after I made the journey here to see you special."

"What are you doing here, Gabriel?"

"I came to see you, dear brother, and your human. It's been a while since I saw young Sammy Winchester, and I'd like to catch up."

"You know Sam?"

Gabriel frowned. "I do, but he has no idea who I really am. As you can see"—he gestured down his body—"I made myself a whole new image, and I came into contact with Sam and his brother along my way. Just a heads up, Sammy might not be too pleased to see me again."

"What did you do to him, Gabriel?" Lucifer asked, a steel edge to his tone.

"I may have trapped him in a time loop of eternal Tuesdays..."

"Killing Dean every day," Lucifer finished for him. "That's what you did with all the things I taught you, become a trickster. Really, Gabriel, you could have done so much better than that."

"Hey, no judgment, okay? I did what I had to do to escape. We can't all create our own kingdoms."

"Why did you leave Heaven?" Lucifer asked.

"After what you and Michael did to each other, I couldn't bear it any longer."

"What I did to him!" Lucifer's hands fisted at his sides. "I did nothing to him. It was he that betrayed me."

"Cry me a river, Lucifer," Gabriel said carelessly. "I've heard all this before. Play the victim all you want. But you and me? We know the truth. Dad loved you best, more than Michael, more than me. Then he brought the new baby home, and you couldn't handle it."

"Why are you saying this to me now?" Lucifer asked, stung by his brothers words.

"Because you need to hear it, Lucifer. You need to understand if you are to understand what's happening to you."

"What's happening to me? Nothing is happening to me."

Gabriel huffed out a breath. "For the Prince of Lies you're not doing too well."

"I'm not lying," Lucifer said, his brow creasing with confusion.

"You are, to me, to yourself, and to Sam."

Lucifer shook his head jerkily. "I swore I would never lie to Sam. I don't know what you read in those pages, but it was not the truth."

"Chill, bro. I didn't read anything in those pages that I can't get from speaking to you."

Lucifer was genuinely confused. He hadn't lied to Sam. Not once. He swore he never would.

"No more games, Gabriel. Tell me what you mean?"

"You do know, don't you?" Gabriel's smooth brow furrowed. "You don't!"

"Know what?" Lucifer's hands fisted. "What are you talking about?"

"Tell me about Sam," Gabriel said.

"What does he have to do with anything?"

"Just do it, Lucifer."

Lucifer frowned as he tried to find a way explain Sam to Gabriel. He opened his mouth to speak twice before closing it again. Eventually, he sighed. "I don't know what to say about him."

"It's beyond words, right?" Gabriel said.

Lucifer nodded. "I don't understand your implications, but yes, I am finding it hard to find words."

"Because that's what love does to you, Lucifer. It steals your words."

"Love?"

"Yes, Lucifer. You love Sam. You have to know that."

"I don't... I mean..." Lucifer ran a hand through his hair. "It's not possible. I would know."

"Knowing or not, you have sacrificed part of your plan already for him. Do you really think there is another explanation?"

Lucifer began to pace the length of the room, turning things over in his mind. It was impossible. He couldn't love Sam. He would know. How he felt for Sam was nothing like the way he felt about Gabriel or any of his other brothers, and he loved them.

He told Gabriel as much and Gabriel smiled. "There is an ocean of difference between the love you feel for your family and romantic love."

"Romantic!" Lucifer almost choked on the word.

"Yes, Lucifer," Gabriel said patiently. "Romantic. That was what you are feeling. Romantic love."

"But I..." Lucifer sputtered for a moment and then looked imploringly at Gabriel. "I don't understand."

Gabriel pats him on the shoulder. "Love is a fickle thing, Lucifer. We don't get to pick and choose who we love."

"But Sam is..."

"A man?" Gabriel asked. "Trust me, that doesn't matter in this day and age."

Lucifer frowned. "I was going to say he is a human. How can I love a human?"

"No idea, but you do, and if you're honest with yourself, you'll admit you've known it for quite some time."

Lucifer thought. He accepted that there was something different about Sam. He had never felt like this about anyone before. But he never imagined it was love.

Could it be…? Was it possible…?

He examined his feelings for Sam closely. He cared about him, that much he knew. He worried about him. He missed him in the moments they were parted by circumstance or sleep. There was little he wouldn't do for him, except kill him as he asked in the throes of his withdrawal. He would sacrifice anything Sam asked of him. But love...

"Love," he said it aloud, testing the word on his tongue.

"Yes, Lucifer, love," Gabriel said with a smile. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"I love Sam." Again, he was testing the words, but as he spoke them aloud, he knew it was the truth. He loved Sam. He was doomed to love a human.

"Why the sad face?" Gabriel asked. "This is the good part. You should be all happy that it's finally clicked."

"It's Sam," Lucifer said. "I love Sam, but how can this ever end happily? I am an angel, he is a man."

"And I once had a fling with a pagan god. It's all about sacrifice, Lucifer."

"You had a fling with a pagan god?" Lucifer asked, his lip curling with disgust.

"Hey now, I'm not the one in love with his meat suit."

In one swift movement, Lucifer had Gabriel pinned against the wall and his blade at his throat. "That's Sam you're talking about."

"Exactly," Gabriel said with a laugh. "That heat in your belly, that anger, that's what love does to you."

Lucifer released him and stepped back. "I don't know what to do."

Gabriel sighed. "It's simple enough, Lucifer. You go to him and tell him how you feel."

Lucifer took a step back. "Tell him?"

Gabriel sighed. "Yes. You have to tell him how you feel. How do you expect anything to progress if you don't tell him?"

"Progress?"

"If you're just going to repeat what I say, this conversation is going to get old fast."

Lucifer huffed. "What am I supposed to do? I can't tell him. He won't understand. To him, I'm the Devil. He can never feel the same."

Gabriel sighed and rested a hand on his arm. "You're more than the Devil to him, Lucifer. I've read the pages. He cares for you."

"Is that what the prophet thinks?" Lucifer asked.

"It's what the prophet knows," Gabriel said. "You understand the connection between prophet and subject; it's supreme."

Lucifer allowed himself a small smile. "He cares for me."

Gabriel nodded. "He does."

Lucifer allowed the feeling of completeness to fill him. Sam cared for him. It was a feeling he had never had before. Since he was cast out of heaven, he'd had only one thought on his mind: to avenge himself on the humans that were the cause for his fall. Now, he had fallen in love with one, and revenge didn't seem so important anymore.

Not now that he had Sam.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

Sam woke the next morning feeling infinitely better than he had the night before. He stretched and looked around the room, Lucifer was not there, but Sam knew he was close, waiting for his call.

He showered and dressed then called to Lucifer as he was tying his bootlaces.

"Sam," a soft voice said.

Sam looked up and smiled. "Morning."

"How are you feeling today?" Lucifer asked.

"Much better," Sam tilted his head to the side and appraised Lucifer. "You look different."

"I do?" Lucifer looked puzzled as he looked down at his clothes. They were the same clothes he had been wearing for days. Sam realized that they were the only clothes he had ever seen Lucifer wear, like the suit and trench coat were the only clothes he had ever seen Castiel wearing. He wondered at that. Did they never get bored of wearing the same thing? Not that he was a fashionista himself, of course. He decided to ask Lucifer.

"Do I become bored of wearing these clothes?" Lucifer asked, plucking at his shirt. "I have never considered it before. Are clothes meant to entertain you?"

Sam laughed. "No. It's just we, humans, change most every day."

"This was what Nick was wearing when I took him over. Would you prefer it if I wore something different?"

Sam shook his head. "No, it doesn't matter to me what you wear. I just wondered."

Lucifer smiled. "Your curiosity is an intriguing thing, Sam."

Sam was bemused by that. Lucifer seemed to be in an especially light mood. Perhaps that was the something different about him. Shrugging, he got to his feet and picked up his jacket. "You good for a trip to the diner or do you have other plans?" he asked.

"I would like to accompany you," Lucifer said. "I have no other plans for today."

"Great." Sam grinned and opened the door, gesturing Lucifer out ahead of him.

When they got to the diner, they took what had become their usual booth and waited for Shirley to bring them menus. When she had come and taken Sam's order for eggs and coffee, they were left alone.

Lucifer rested his elbows on the table and cupped his chin in his hands. He sat like that, watching Sam as he sat fiddled with the sugar packets. His close scrutiny was starting to make Sam uncomfortable.

"Is something wrong, Lucifer?" he asked.

Lucifer shook his head as if coming out of a daze. "No, nothing. Why?"

"Because you seem different today. You're kinda staring, too."

Lucifer immediately cast his eyes down to the table. "I apologize."

Sam shrugged. "There's no reason to apologize. It's fine."

Lucifer took a deep breath, as if readying himself to say something important. "There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about..."

"Fire away," Sam said.

"I..." He trailed off and looked awkward. "I had a visitor last night."

Sam was sure that wasn't what he was going to say, but he was intrigued nonetheless. "Really, who?"

"My brother, Gabriel."

"Gabriel, as in _the_ Gabriel. The archangel?" Sam's mouth was agape.

Lucifer smiled. "Yes. He came to me last night."

"Wow, that's just... Wow. It must have been good to see him, a real live brother after all this time."

Lucifer nodded. "It was very gratifying."

"So," Sam rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably, "has he joined the cause? Are there two archangels gunning for the earth now?"

"No," Lucifer said serenely. "He left heaven shortly after my own exile. He has been living concealed amongst humanity for millennia. I didn't know. In fact..."

"What?" Sam asked.

"You know him," Lucifer said. "Though you have only met him under the guise of the Trickster."

"The Trickster!" Sam choked on the word. "Him! That... Him! He is your brother?"

Lucifer laid his palms flat on the table. "I know you have good reason to dislike him, I know what he did to you, but he isn't the monster you believe him to be."

"He killed Dean!" Sam hissed. "Over and over again. I had to watch him die because of your _brother._"

"And he was wrong to do so," Lucifer said. "But I believe there was a message he was trying to impart."

"A message. Lucifer, do you have any idea how it felt for me to watch Dean die over and over again, knowing there was nothing I could do?"

Lucifer looked down at the table. "No, I do not. I apologize. I did not mean to trivialize what you went through."

Sam was breathing heavily, anger still bubbling inside of him. "Do me a favor, Lucifer. If your brother comes by again, keep him away from me."

Lucifer nodded. "As you wish."

Sam took a deep breath and relaxed his fisted hands. "Okay."

"Incidentally, before coming to me, he saw your brother," Lucifer said.

Sam's heart contracted painfully in his chest. "Dean! Oh God, he's okay, right? He didn't hurt him?" His mind raced with possibilities. The Trickster could have done anything to Dean and Bobby, and if was really an archangel, he could have done something to Cas, too.

"Calm down, Sam," Lucifer said gently. "Your brother is unharmed. All of them are fine. The only one that came close to being injured was Gabriel. Apparently, your brother shot at him with an unloaded shotgun."

Sam grinned. The Trickster deserved everything he got.

"And he brought me news of your brother," Lucifer said.

"He did? What did he say?"

"That they are all well and together. Apparently, the prophet has been writing chapters to cover your time with me, so they are well informed."

Sam nodded. Any news of Dean and the others was gratefully accepted. He was not surprised Chuck had been writing out the pages. It made sense for him as a writer to be able to share what he saw as chapters. He imagined them all reading about his days with Lucifer and he felt shame creep up on him. He hadn't exactly been doing his best to overcome Lucifer's plans. They would be so disappointed in him.

Shirley arrived with his food and Sam thanked her. She cast Lucifer a look of longing, but he doesn't seem to notice her at all. He was preoccupied with Sam still.

Sam forked up his eggs and waited for Lucifer to speak. He waited a long time. He had finished his meal and was just drinking the dregs of his coffee when Lucifer cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Sam, I..."

"Yes?" Sam asked.

Lucifer shook his head. "Nothing."

Sam shrugged and got to his feet. Dropping a couple of bills down onto the table, he pulled on his jacket and waited for Lucifer.

They walked back to the hotel together in silence. Sam knew that there was something Lucifer was hiding, and as they walked, he tried to come up with an idea of what it was. He didn't think it was anything to do with Dean, as he would have said it already. He had almost convinced himself that it was something about the looming apocalypse that he thought would upset Sam to hear. He had braced himself for bad news by the time he got to the hotel, and when they reached the room, he had decided to question Lucifer until he talked. That was a very naive plan, of course, and he knew it. Lucifer would talk when he was good and ready, and nothing Sam could say or do would change that.

Luckily, he didn't have to wait long. He'd toed off his boots and then flopped down onto the bed, when Lucifer spoke.

"So, Sam, there was something I wanted to talk to you about."

"I figured," Sam said. "Go ahead."

"Well, there is something we need to discuss, and the diner wasn't the right place to do it, and now we are here, and..." He rubbed at the back of his neck. Sam had never seen Lucifer like this before. He looked nervous. "The thing is..."

Sam sat up. "Lucifer, what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," Lucifer said.

Sam raised an eyebrow. Something was obviously wrong.

Lucifer drew a deep breath and fixed his eyes on a spot a foot above Sam's head. "Things have changed for me since you came to be here. I have found myself changing in ways I didn't think were possible. I am different because of you."

Sam sat back against the headboard and looked at Lucifer. He didn't understand what he was trying to say, but it sounded positive, at least to him it did.

"I didn't understand these changes until I spoke to my brother. He explained them to me."

Sam nodded. "Is that a good thing?"

"I believe it is good. It is all very dependent on you."

"Me?"

Lucifer's lips curved into a reluctant smile. "Yes, Sam, you. You see, these changed feelings are all focused on you. I have come to care for you. You are special to me."

It was nothing Sam hadn't heard before. He was special to Lucifer, of course he was. He was Lucifer's vessel, his weapon against Michael. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he thought Lucifer had been coming to value him as a person, too, as much as someone that hated humanity could value a human. It was all good news as far as Sam was concerned. He had, against his will, come to care for the fallen angel, too.

Lucifer stared at Sam as if expecting some reaction. Sam wanted to oblige, but he didn't know what to say.

"I'm confused, Lucifer. You're saying you care about me?"

Lucifer nodded, looking pleased. "Yes."

"Well, that's great," Sam said.

"It is?"

"Sure. Dean is gonna kick my ass six ways from Sunday for this, but I've came to see you differently, too."

"You have?"

"Yeah," Sam rubbed at the back of his neck. "I'd call you a friend, but I'm not sure that's the right word for it."

"Friend?" Lucifer looked downcast. He looked out of the window for a moment, clearly thinking hard. When he looked back at Sam, there was steely determination in his eyes. "I love you, Sam. I do not merely care for you. I love you. I am _in _love with you."

Sam gawked at him, opened-mouthed. He got up from the bed and paced up and down the room, passing Lucifer on every turn. His mind was reeling. Lucifer, Satan, the Devil himself had just announced that he was in love with him. Things like that didn't just happen! He paused in his pacing, looked at Lucifer and opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. He made one more pass up the room before Lucifer spoke softly.

"Sam, please."

"This is not okay," Sam said abruptly. "Lucifer, really, whatever you're thinking, this is not okay. I don't know how you think this is going to get you a yes, but it's wrong. You can't just say stuff like that to a person. You can't do that."

"I assure you, Sam, I am not trying to manipulate you here. I am being honest. I am in love with you."

Sam felt like he had been punched in the gut. Lucifer truly meant it. He genuinely loved Sam. He didn't know how to react. He didn't know what to think. He was struggling to remember how to breathe.

"I'm sorry I upset you," Lucifer said. "That was not my intent."

Sam shook his head mutely, still unable to process thought enough to articulate words.

"I shall leave you," Lucifer said.

Sam croaked, but no words came. Dammit, why wouldn't his brain work? He needed to say something. To do something.

Lucifer gave him one last searching look and then he was gone.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered. His mouth finally worked, but it was too late.

Outside, there was a flash of lightning and rain began to pelt the windows.

* * *

Lucifer materialized in the park he and Sam visited the day before. The rain lashed down and thunder rumbled. A fork of lightning hit a tree and it burst into flames.

The fire reflected in Lucifer's eyes as he gazed at it. There was something so beautifully simple about the destructiveness of fire that appealed to him. It reminded him of love. Love destroyed. It had almost destroyed him.

To think that a human almost undid all his hard work. He had almost given it all up for Sam. He had lost one horseman to his infatuation, as he hadn't been able to watch Sam's suffering, but it would not happen again. Famine and War were gone, but Pestilence still lived, and he was working towards the cause. Death would come next. Lucifer would bring him into being, and he would wreak havoc across the world. His first port of call would be Sioux Falls. Mr. Singer would no longer be protected; he would have a taste of Lucifer's power. And from Sioux Falls... the world.

There was a soft rustling sound, and Lucifer knew before he turned who it would be.

"Hate to interrupt the temper tantrum, but you might want to calm down before you set fire to the town. There are already three house fires because of your lightning."

"I am not in the mood for this, Gabriel."

"Too bad," Gabriel said, stepping around to face him. "'Cause you're gonna hear it."

"Gabriel," Lucifer said in a warning tone.

"I take it things with Sam didn't go well."

"You ask as though you don't already know. Did you know that he cared nothing for me before you sent me to him or was it a lucky guess?"

"I told you what I knew, Lucifer," Gabriel said. "Sam cares for you."

Lucifer spoke through gritted teeth. "I find that hard to believe given his reaction."

"What did he say?"

"He accused me of trying to manipulate him."

Gabriel nodded. "Not unexpected given your past. What else?"

"Not unexpected? Gabriel, I have sworn never to lie to Sam, and I have kept that vow. I would not manipulate him. I would—"

"You manipulated him into giving up his freedom for his brother's protection," Gabriel said flatly. "You even used hellhounds, knowing the connotations they had for both Sam and Dean. That was a low blow."

Lucifer didn't want to hear that. "Did you come for a specific reason or are you merely here to aggravate me?" he asked.

"I am here to stop you making a big mistake. I know you, and I know you are preparing yourself to do something stupid."

"You don't know me anymore, brother," Lucifer said. "I am well aware of what I am doing, and it's not a mistake."

Gabriel tapped his chin. "So, you aren't about to amp up your plans for the end of the world?"

"I am doing nothing I wasn't intending to do before this whole debacle started." That was true. He had always intended to raise Death, and he had wanted to send a message to Sam and Dean via Mr. Singer before the idea to entrap Sam came to him. He was working within the plans he already had.

"Lucifer..." Gabriel paused as a lightning bolt hit another tree near them. "Will you stop that? You are going to take down the whole town at the rate you are going."

Thinking only of the safety of his vessel, he cared nothing for other humans, Lucifer stopped his assault on nature and the storm faded.

"That's better," Gabriel said, sighing. "Now, tell me exactly what happened."

"I will not," Lucifer said firmly. "You have already meddled in my life enough, Gabriel. I will not aid you to do it again."

"Lucifer," Gabriel said softly, reaching out a hand to him.

Lucifer backed away before he could made contact. "You have done enough, Gabriel. I have no need of your company now."

"You're making a big mistake," Gabriel said warningly.

"Thank you, Gabriel. That will be all." Lucifer said coolly.

Gabriel threw his arms up. "Fine, but don't come to me when you need help fixing this mess. Just know you did this to yourself."

Lucifer merely glared at him, and a moment later, Gabriel was gone.

Lucifer fisted his hands at his sides and created a mental barricade around the conversation. He did the same to his confession to Sam. If he didn't think of them, then they didn't happen.

With the rain drizzling down around him, he closed his eyes and headed to Carthage.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

"Crowley?" Dean asked.

Chuck looked incredulous. "Didn't you read _Time Is On My Side_?"

"No, Chuck," Dean said bitterly. "I lived it."

"Oh, right... yeah." Chuck laughed nervously. "Well, Bela said she gave the Colt to Lilith, right?"

Dean scowled as he remembered. "Yeah."

"Well, she lied. She gave the Colt to a demon called Crowley."

"And you didn't think to mention this before?" Bobby asked in a strained voice.

Chuck shrugged. "It never came up."

Dean bit back his anger and tried to speak in a level tone. "So, tell us about Crowley. Who is he?"

"He is the King of the Crossroads. He was Lilith's right hand man before Sam… you know."

"Iced the bitch?" Dean offered.

Chuck nodded. "Yeah, that."

"So, this Crowley, he has the Colt?" Bobby asked.

"I think so. He was the last person to have it that I know about."

Dean clapped his hands together. "This is awesome. We have a weapon."

"We have the possibility of a weapon," Castiel said. "And no definite idea of whether or not it will work."

"Way to be a buzz kill, Cas," Dean said. "This is the first bit of good news we've had in weeks and you go and steal all the fun out of it."

Castiel looked apologetic.

"You know where to find this Crowley, Chuck?" Dean asked.

Chuck shook his head. "Sorry, no."

"Not a problem," Dean said confidently. "He is King of the Crossroads, right. All we gotta do is find ourselves a crossroads."

Bobby looked reluctant. "I don't know, Dean…"

"Relax. I'm not planning on making a deal. I'll go, take Castiel with me, he can shazam us back here, and I can get the demon talking."

He was excited at the prospect. With Castiel on side, it would be positively easy. They could get the demon talking, and find out where Crowley was. Then it was just a case of getting hold of him and squeezing till he handed over the Colt. Then, finally, they would have a weapon against Lucifer. They could ice him, get Sam back, and all would be good again. No more reading pages and panicking, no more apocalypse, no more vessels. It would all be over.

"Don't go getting away from yourself," Bobby said soberly. "We've got to find this Crowley first, and then persuade him to give up the Colt, which, as it can kill _him_, he is unlikely to do."

"If he doesn't want to hand over the gun, I'll make him," Dean said simply.

Bobby nodded, and Dean knew he understood that Dean would torture the location of the Colt out of Crowley. He didn't want to do it, but desperate times called for desperate measures. It was the end of the world that they were facing and Sam was slipping away.

"You good for this, Cas?" Dean asked, raising his brows.

Castiel nodded. "I will aid you in whatever way I can."

"You guys best get the panic room set up then," Bobby said. "Sounds like we're going to have company."

Dean clapped Chuck on the shoulder. "Thanks for this, Chuck. You've came through for us yet again."

Chuck nodded. "I just hope it works."

"Don't worry, it will," Dean said, walking out of the room and down to the basement.

* * *

Dean crouched in the dirt at the crossroads and buried the small tin in the ground. He never thought he would be there again, summoning a crossroads demon, but he had no regrets; it was worth it to get the Colt back.

He stamped down the dirt and stepped back, waiting for the demon to arrive. The first sign of its coming was soft footsteps and then a feminine laugh.

"Dean Winchester, you cannot be serious."

Dean turned and saw the demon. It was a woman with long, dark hair. She would be beautiful if not for her crimson eyes.

Dean nodded at her. "I'm deadly serious."

"You want to make a deal? _You?_ After what happened last time..." She shook her head. "What's the matter, Dean, you missing the hellfire of home already?"

"Something like that," Dean said.

"Well, too bad. We're all sworn off making deals with Winchesters after your dramatic rescue. So, unless there's anything else I can do for you, I'm going to have to say goodbye."

"Actually," Dean said, "there is something you can do for me. You can scream really loud. Cas!"

The demon looked puzzled and then Castiel was there. He gripped her around the arm, and a moment later, they were back in Bobby's panic room. Castiel manhandled the demon into the chair Dean had set in the center of the room and Dean wrapped rope around her, binding her to the chair.

"What are you doing?" the demon hissed, bucking and testing the restraints.

"Relax," Dean said. "We're not going to hurt you. Unless you refuse to tell us what we want to know, of course, then we'll hurt you a lot."

The demon tilted her head to the side. "What do you want to know?"

"It's more a need really," Dean said conversationally. "You see, we're looking for your boss." Dean walked in a circle around her.

She looked over her shoulder at him. "I have no boss."

"That's not what we hear. Word has it that you boss is a guy called Crowley. We need to speak to him." Dean walked over to stand in front of her.

"Crowley? Never heard of him." She shrugged.

"Now that's a real shame," Dean said, crossing the room and picking up a bottle of holy water. He uncapped the bottle and raised it above the demon's head. "I didn't want to do this." He tipped his hand and the demon was showered in the water. Her skin hissed and sizzled and smoke rose around her. She threw back her head and shrieked.

Dean stepped back. "So, I'm going to ask again, where is Crowley?"

"I don't know," the demon said.

Dean stepped back to the table and picked up the demon blade. "Do you know what this was?"

The demon nodded jerkily.

"Then you know what it will do. Unless you tell me what I want to know, I am going to drive this knife into your leg. It won't kill you, but it sure will hurt."

The demon smirked. "You wouldn't dare. You wouldn't want to hurt this meat suit. She is a good girl, a librarian, you know. Her name's Lucy."

Dean stepped forward and leaned into the demon's face. "That's where you are wrong."

He slammed his hand down, driving the knife deep into the demon's leg. She screamed out.

* * *

Dean stalked in a circle around the bound demon, his lip curled with disgust. It was wearing a young girl, pretty and blonde, innocent looking, which he guessed was probably why she was chosen. Who would distrust this face?

"Tell us where Crowley is," Dean said for what felt like the hundredth time.

"I don't know!" the demon said again.

"Bullshit!" Dean snapped. "You're one of his demons. You have to know."

"It's not like he throws cocktails parties for us," the demon said. "He is the boss. When he wants us, he finds us. We don't get to call on him."

Dean took the flask of holy water from his pocket and splashed a few drops onto her exposed skin. She shrieked in pain. He reached for the knife when Castiel stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"I don't believe she knows, Dean."

Dean sighed and stepped back from the demon, wiping his bloodied hands on his jeans. "You're right. Take her back where we found her and work your mojo on her."

Castiel nodded and reached for the demon. With a soft fluttering sound, they were both gone.

Dean kicked at the chair in frustration. It was the third demon they had interrogated, and they were no closer to finding Crowley. He was exhausted and hungry. He had been at it for eighteen hours now, refusing to sleep until he had found the right demon.

He left the panic room and plodded up the stairs to the study. Chuck's computer was dark and silent; its owner was doing the sensible thing, sleeping. Bobby was awake, though. He was sitting at the desk with a book open in front of him and a tumbler of whiskey.

He looked up as Dean entered. "How's it going down there?"

"Nothing doing yet. We'll find him though. Someone has to know where he is."

Bobby nodded. "I know you will." He glanced at the clock. "You going to get some sleep or are you still laboring under the delusion that you're superhuman?"

Dean raked a hand over his face, rubbing at his tired eyes. "I'll sleep when we find Crowley."

"Really, that's nice and dramatic and all, but how _exactly_ are you going to find me?" a dry voice said behind him.

Dean spun on his heel and came face to face with an average-height man with short, dark hair. He was wearing a black suit and overcoat and was smirking.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but suddenly, the room began to quake; the pictures on the wall rattled and the books began to shake from the shelves.

"That's my cue to leave," the man said. "I'll be right back." And then Crowley was gone.

The room continued to quake and the lights flickered.

"What's going on?" Bobby shouted over the rumble of the room.

"I have a feeling we're about to have another visitor," Dean called back.

There was movement at the door, and Chuck stumbled in, rubbing at his eyes. "What's happening?"

In answer, the room quaked even harder, and a man entered. Dean recognized him at once, and he was glad Castiel wasn't there. It was Raphael, and he looked pissed.

"Prophet," he said addressing Chuck, "we are leaving."

"What? No!" Chuck said breathlessly.

"I have borne the fallen angel and the other humans, as they have been dedicated to protecting you, but demons! This place is not safe for you anymore. We are leaving."

Chuck shook his head jerkily. "No! I'm not ready!"

"I am making the choice for you," Raphael said. "You must be protected."

"But wait! There's something I need to tell them."

It apparently didn't matter to Raphael. He stepped forward and gripped Chuck's arm, and with a fluttering sound, they were gone.

Dean stared at the spot Chuck had been standing, his mouth agape. He couldn't believe that had just happened. Damn Raphael and his timing. Why couldn't he have waited five more minutes? Then they could have heard what was so important. Was Sam okay? Had something happened to him? Dean had a hundred questions but no way of answering them. His fear for Sam was dominant.

"Has he gone?"

Dean turned and saw the man he assumed was Crowley.

"That was close," he said tugging at his collar. "Damn archangels, they make my skin crawl."

"So, you're Crowley," Bobby said.

"I am indeed. Smart one, aren't ya. Now, I hear you boys have been looking for me."

Dean nodded. He stepped back, hoping Crowley would come forward. There was a devil's trap on the ceiling and if he could just get him to take one more step forward...

Crowley's eyes moved slowly to the ceiling, and he smirked at Dean. "Nice try, petal, but I'm not an idiot."

Dean sighed. They were screwed. Castiel wasn't there to wrestle him down to the panic room, and Dean might as well throw pillows at him as try to do it himself.

"Now, now, don't be getting downhearted. I'm here of my own free will, aren't I? There's no need to go trapping me."

"And why are you here?" Bobby asked.

"Because I want to help, you blithering idiot." He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out the Colt. "This is it, right? This is what it's all about. Do you know how deep I could have buried this thing? There's no reason you or anyone should know this even exists, except that I told you."

"You told us?" Bobby said skeptically.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Rumors, innuendo, sent out on the grapevine."

"Why?" Dean asked. "Why tell us anything?"

Crowley raised the gun and pointed it directly at Dean. "I want you to take this thing to Lucifer and empty it into his face."

Dean didn't betray the fear he felt having the gun pointing at him "Uh-huh, okay, and why exactly would you want the Devil dead?"

Crowley lowered the gun. "It's called survival."

"Survival?"

"Lucifer isn't a demon, remember? He is an angel. An angel famous for his hatred of humankind. To him, you're just filthy bags of pus. If that's the way he feels about you, what can he think about us?"

"But he created you," Bobby said.

"To him, we're just servants, cannon fodder. If Lucifer manages to exterminate humankind, we're next. So, help me, huh? Let's all go back to simpler, better times, back to when we could all follow our natures. I'm in sales, dammit! So, what do you say I give you this thing, and you go kill the Devil?"

He turned the gun and held it by the barrel. Dean stepped forward hesitantly and took the handle. "Great," he said.

Crowley grinned. "Great."

"You wouldn't happen to know where the Devil was, by chance, would you?"

Crowley sighed. "Do I have to do everything for you? Don't answer that. It was a rhetorical question. He is holed up at the Townsend Hotel in Birmingham, Michigan. I hear him and your brother have a suite there."

Bobby and Dean exchange a look and nodded.

"Great," Bobby said.

Dean raised the gun and pointed the barrel between Crowley's eyes. He pulled the trigger but it snapped on an empty barrel.

Crowley didn't look at all surprised at their attempt on his life. "Oh, yeah, right, you'll probably need some more ammunition." He reached into his coat and pulled out a leather case. He tossed it to Bobby who snapped it opened. It was full of bullets.

Dean cleared his throat. "Oh, uh, excuse me for asking, but aren't you kind of signing your own death warrant? I mean, what happens to you if we go up against the Devil and lose?"

"Number one, he is going to wipe us all out anyway. Two, after I leave here, I go on an extended vacation to all points nowhere. And three, how about you don't miss, okay! Moron!"

That said, he cast them one last scathing look and disappeared.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-one**

They were prepared if not ready. The Colt was tucked into the back of Dean's pants, and Castiel was armed with a bottle of holy oil. There was nothing else to do but leave. Unfortunately, Bobby had other ideas

"C'mon, Bobby," Dean groaned. "I don't want my picture taken."

"That's hard luck," Bobby said. "I need something to remember your sorry asses by."

Castiel nodded serenely. "He is right. We go to hunt the Devil. This is our last day on earth."

"Well, gee, Cas, way to bring the mood down," Dean said.

"Shut up and smile," Bobby said, wheeling himself back into the camera's viewfinder.

Dean gritted his teeth, Castiel watched Dean, and Bobby smiled. The camera flashed and the picture was taken.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Bobby said, picking up his camera.

Dean shouldered his duffel and downed the last of his glass of whiskey. "We'll see you later, Bobby."

Bobby sighed. "I sure hope so."

Dean stopped with a hand on the door. "Listen to me, we'll be back, and we'll have Sam with us. No one is dying tonight."

"When did you become an optimist?" Castiel asked curiously.

"This isn't optimism, Cas, it's fact. We're icing Lucifer and getting Sam back today."

Bobby nodded. "I believe you. Now go get him." Dean's hand turned on the door and Bobby called out to him once more. "And, Dean, go easy on him, okay?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Satan?"

"No, you halfwit, your brother. I know you're not happy about what you've read, but remember he's been through a lot."

Dean had never needed Bobby's advice less. He wasn't remotely happy about what he'd read, but he understood it wasn't Sam's fault. He'd got some kind of Devil induced Stockholm syndrome. They just needed to get him away from Lucifer, and he'd be fine again.

"Don't worry. Bobby. I'll take care of him."

They went out to the car, and Castiel climbed into the passenger seat: Sam's seat.

No one had questioned it when Dean said they would drive across to Michigan. His reasoning was simple; for all his words to Bobby and Castiel, he knew there was a very real risk one or both of them may not be making the return journey, and he wanted them to have one last ride in the Impala before they went.

Dean flicked the radio on and the familiar strains of Metallica came through the speakers. It was familiar and comforting and home, except there was something wrong. His eyes slid sideways to Castiel and he recognized that there was still something missing, someone. Consoling himself with the fact they were on their way to rescue Sam, Dean turned the key and the engine rumbled to life. He pulled out of the garage and wound his way through the stacks of junkers. As they pulled out onto the road, he pressed the horn once to signal to Bobby that they were on their way.

xXx

Sam lay on the bed and stared up at the clean, white ceiling. He almost wished for the old motel with its familiar water stain. Things were easier then, when his captor was the Devil and the enemy. Now, things were all so confusing. He had seen the other side to Lucifer, and he cared about him. That was okay until Lucifer decided to announce that he was in love with Sam and mess it all up.

Why did he have to declare himself? Things had been good before that. Now Sam was confused. The worst part was that he had lost his friend. Lucifer was back in the hotel, Sam had heard him talking to the demons, but he hadn't come to Sam, and Sam was too ashamed of himself to pray to him.

He should have said something to Lucifer. He shouldn't have let it go like that. Lucifer had laid himself bare and all Sam had been able to do was to gape at him.

There was a knock at the door, and he lurched to his feet and swung it open, hoping to see Lucifer. It was a demon standing on the other side, though, and she was bearing a covered plate.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"Your dinner," the demon said.

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry." Sam started to close the door, but the demon put her foot in the way.

"Lucifer would like you to eat this."

"Lucifer can come tell me that himself," Sam said.

The demon rolled her eyes. "The time for long walks to the diner with Lucifer is over, Winchester. You need to learn your place. You are a prisoner, and that's all you are."

Sam forcibly pushed her away, knocking the tray to the floor, and slammed the door shut.

He threw himself back down on the bed, and his thoughts drifted to Dean. What was he thinking now? And Bobby and Cas... and Chuck? How exactly did Chuck's prophecies work? Could he tell what Sam was thinking and feeling? Did he know, did they _all _know that Sam was falling for the Devil? Because Sam was very afraid that was what was happening. He knew he cared for Lucifer, but it felt like something more, something that scared him.

Sam's hands came up to tangle in his hair and his fingers tugged at the strands. When did everything get so complicated? He would have given almost anything to be back at Bobby's, with him and Dean and Castiel. If he was there, he would be plotting to fight Lucifer and things would be normal again.

He pushed himself to a sitting position and leaned back against the headboard. He needed to speak to Lucifer. If they could just talk, maybe Sam could made sense of things again.

"Lucifer," he said hesitantly. "I need to talk to you."

He waited, but there was no fluttering sound and no second presence in the room.

"Lucifer, please. I'm sorry for what happened. You need to let me explain."

There was nothing. Lucifer wasn't coming. Sam groaned. What was he supposed to do if the angel wouldn't even talk to him?

Irritation surged through him. If the demon was acting on Lucifer's orders, that meant Sam was apparently going back to being a prisoner. Screw that! If Lucifer wanted to be his captor again, he could come and enforce it himself. Sam wasn't taking orders from demons.

He got up from the bed and shoved his feet into his boots. Grabbing his jacket, he flung open the door and strode out onto the hall. No one stopped him as he marched down the stairs and into the lobby, but as his fingers closed around the handle of the main door, a voice called out behind him.

"Going somewhere, Winchester?"

Sam turned and saw the demon that had brought him his meal. "Yes," he said. "I'm going out for something to eat. You got a problem with that?"

"Lucifer would prefer it if you stayed in the hotel from now on."

"Then Lucifer can tell me that himself," Sam snapped. "I'm going out. Are you going to stop me?"

The demon merely watched Sam as he opened the door and stepped outside.

"That's what I thought," he said. He allowed the door to swing closed behind him and made his way down the street to the diner.

If Lucifer wanted to ignore him, that was fine, but Sam refused to be treated like a prisoner.

Not now he knew the truth.

* * *

There was a tap at the door and Lucifer looked up. "Enter."

The demon, Charice he thought she called herself, came in carrying two full jugs of blood. She set them down on the table and then cleared her throat. "Sam Winchester has left the hotel."

Lucifer nodded. He was aware of it already. He'd heard her exchange with Sam in the lobby; angelic hearing didn't miss much.

"I tried to stop him," she said, "but..."

"My orders were explicit," Lucifer finished for her. "It's okay. He will return." He trusted in that. Sam would not just leave, no matter how he felt about Lucifer and his confession. His care for his brother's life mattered more. "You can leave me."

The demon bowed her head and backed out of the room.

Alone again, Lucifer went to the table and picked up one of the jugs of blood sitting there. Bringing it to his lips, he swallowed it down quickly. He had never enjoyed drinking the blood, but since things became complicated with Sam, he hated it. It felt like a betrayal to Sam to drink it. After watching him suffer through the days of withdrawal, even having it in the hotel felt wrong. He had no choice, though; he had to sustain the vessel, and the vessel demanded blood. He told himself that it shouldn't matter since Sam had made it clear that he didn't return Lucifer's feelings, but it did matter. He supposed it was part of the fickle state of love.

It was that same fickle state that had stopped him going to Sam. He had heard his prayers, but he hadn't responded. He couldn't bring himself to look at Sam and know that he had made a fool of himself. He had never been made to feel weakened like that before. He had always felt strong, even as he had been forced into the cage by Michael, but Sam made him feel weak.

He drunk the last of the blood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

He got up and went to the window, staring out at the street below. Sam was nowhere in sight; he would have reached the diner already. Lucifer imagined him sitting there, chatting with the waitress that seemed so keen on him. If he hadn't destroyed it all by following Gabriel's advice and declaring himself, he would have been there, too. He could be talking with Sam and enjoying his company without any complications.

That was not to say he hadn't seen Sam since his confession. When he returned from his work in Carthage, he crept into Sam's room while he was still sleeping, just to ensure he was safe. He had stayed until Sam started to stir, and then he had slipped away.

He heard a rumble coming from further down the street and his attention was piqued. So was that of his demons. They became restless. He could hear their voices from his room. The demon that brought him the blood before came rushing into the room without knocking.

"Dean Winchester," she said in a rush.

"What about him?"

"He's coming here."

Lucifer frowned. Dean Winchester, there? That couldn't end well. He wondered what harebrained scheme had brought Dean here today. What weapon did he think he had that could possibly threaten Lucifer?

He couldn't kill Dean, it would destroy Sam, but on the same breath, he couldn't allow Dean to take Sam away. What was he supposed to do?

From the window, Lucifer saw a black car cruise to a stop outside the hotel. Lucifer knew little and cared less about human transportation, but he had to admit there was a raw beauty to this machine. He could understand why Sam would be attached to it.

From the car, climbed two figures. One he recognized as Dean and the other his fallen brother, Castiel. They exchanged a look and then stepped up to the hotel doors.

"Lucifer, what do we do?" the demon asked. Lucifer had forgotten her presence until that moment.

"Do nothing," he said. "They are to be unharmed."

She nodded and hurried from the room. Lucifer considered his options. He could kill Dean and Castiel and therefore lose Sam forever or he could allow them to leave unharmed on the condition that Sam stayed. Lucifer may not be able to face being in the waking Sam's presence at the moment, but he didn't want him to go away either.

Perhaps, he thought, he should let him go. It would pain him, but perhaps that's what love meant, pain. So far, he had seen nothing to contradict that theory.

"Lucifer, you son of a bitch, where are you?" a loud and uncouth voice called from the hotel lobby.

Knowing that there was nothing left to do but face them, Lucifer materialized in the lobby, directly opposite Dean. "Hello, Dean," he said softly.

Dean started and jumped back a few paces. From behind him, he pulled a gun. It was old, very old, and yet in fine condition. Lucifer had heard of this gun, it was purported to kill anything, dead. Unfortunately for Dean and thankfully for Lucifer, he was one of only five things the gun wouldn't kill.

Castiel raised his hand, and Lucifer saw a bottle containing what he guessed was holy oil with a rag sticking out of the top of it. Lucifer smiled. "I don't think so, brother." He clicked his fingers and banished Castiel from the state. It would take him a few minutes to find a way back in.

"Now, Dean," Lucifer said. "Why don't you put that fine gun down so you and I can have a chat?"

"I'm not putting anything down," Dean snarled. "Not till you're dead.

Lucifer tilted his head to the side. "Really, you are going to kill me already? Without asking me any of those questions that are burning in you."

"Where's my brother?"

"He is currently dining at the charming diner around the corner. Would you like to see him?"

"I'll see him soon enough," Dean said.

Lucifer nodded. "As you wish. Is there nothing I can do to persuade you to reconsider? I have hoped for some time that we could meet and speak. You are almost as fascinating to me as your brother is."

Dean's jaw tightened. "I have nothing to say to you."

Lucifer opened his arms wide, presenting a target. "Very well."

* * *

As Sam strolled around the corner heading back to the hotel, he saw a flash of chrome and shiny black paint. He stopped dead in his tracks and tried to rationalize what he was seeing. It couldn't be the Impala. The Impala was in South Dakota with Dean and Bobby and Cas, wasn't it?

His legs carried him forward, and he laid a hand on the smooth, polished metal of the hood. It was Dean's car, there was no question, which meant Dean was there, too. Fear gripped Sam. It felt like a lead weight had slipped into his stomach. Dean was with Lucifer. He would be killed!

He ran down the street and flung opened the doors of the lobby. He saw Dean at once. He was standing to the right of the doors, facing Lucifer. Scattered around the room were demons. Dean was facing them all alone.

Sam drank in the sight of Dean, absorbing him after weeks apart. Then he took notice of what was in Dean's hand. It was the Colt and it was aimed at Lucifer.

The Colt!

The word sent a shiver of some unknown emotion through Sam. The Colt was said to kill anything; would it work on Lucifer? Lucifer who was standing with his arms spread wide, as if making himself as large a target as possible.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked.

"Finishing this," Dean said through gritted teeth. "Finishing him once and for all."

"Go upstairs, Sam," Lucifer said in his softest tone. "Your brother will be fine. Go upstairs."

Sam shook his head. He was not leaving them, not for anything. He had to made Dean see that this was a mistake. He couldn't let him kill Lucifer.

"Please, Sam," Lucifer implored.

"Shut it, you," Dean snapped. "Sammy, get behind me."

Sam stepped forward to stand between them. "Dean, put the gun down."

Dean shook his head jerkily.

"Sam." Lucifer was speaking and he didn't sound like himself.

Sam turned to the side so he could see Lucifer while keeping Dean in his view. He looked into Lucifer's eyes, and he saw fear there. That could only mean one thing: Lucifer knew the gun would work on him.

Fear curled around Sam, holding him in its icy clutches. He couldn't let Lucifer die. He just couldn't. He cared too much. He loved him…

And there it was. The thought he had been fighting away since Lucifer's confession. He had fallen in love with the Devil and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Sam," Lucifer said softly. "Please."

Sam shook his head and stepped forward to stand directly in front of him. He turned and looked into Dean's eyes. "I can't let you kill him, Dean."

"Dammit, Sammy," Dean said. "Get out of the way."

Sam shook his head. "He's not what you think."

Dean sighed and lowered the gun slightly. It was now pointing at Sam's chest. "Sam, I know you're confused right now, but you need to get out of the way. I'm doing this."

"I can't," Sam said simply.

"Sam, please," Dean implored.

"You want to kill him, you have to kill me, too."

"Don't do this," Dean said, and he looked near tears. "We're so close to ending it, Sam. Can't you see that? We can end this here and now."

"I can't let you," Sam said firmly.

Then it happened, so fast Sam didn't quite understand how it happened.

Dean was looking into his eyes, and Sam was trying to communicate his need, when the demon moved. It lurched forward, ignoring Lucifer's shouted warning, and tackled Dean.

There was a harsh cracking sound and then the room became deadly silent.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-two**

Sam heard the harsh crack ring out and the deadly silence that followed, and his heart sank.

He turned and gripped Lucifer's shoulders. "Are you okay?" he asked, raking Lucifer's form for a sign of injury, but there was none.

Lucifer looked horrified. His hands gripped Sam's elbows. "Are you?"

Sam was already turning. If Lucifer wasn't hit, then it must have been Dean. But Dean seemed okay, too. He was standing against the wall with the gun in his hand but pointing at the floor. He was sharing Lucifer's horror-struck expression, though.

Finally, Sam looked down, and he saw the dark stain blossoming over his shirt.

"Oh," he said tonelessly.

With understanding, came pain. It felt like a white-hot poker was pressing down on his chest. His knees buckled, and he fell forward onto Lucifer. Lucifer caught him and eased him down to the floor. Sam's head fell back to rest in the crook of Lucifer's elbow. Everything felt slightly out of focus. Sounds and sights seemed to be coming through a mist. The pain was bad, but that too felt disconnected from him.

Someone was shouting his name, and he forced himself to pay attention. It was Dean. His head turned against Lucifer's arm, and he found Dean with his eyes. He was either frozen in place by shock or Lucifer's influence, Sam wasn't sure which, but he was on the other side of the lobby and he wasn't moving away from the wall.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted again.

Sam tried to respond, but there was something in his throat blocking the words. He coughed, and blood spattered down his chin.

"Sam," Lucifer said in a crooning voice.

"'S'okay," Sam said weakly. "M'fine."

He looked from Dean into Lucifer's eyes and there he was lost. There was desperate sadness there and building anger.

"Don't hurt him, please," Sam begged.

"He shot you!" Lucifer said coldly.

"It was an accident." Sam drew a painful breath. "Like the rib."

"Why did you get in the way?" Lucifer asked in a moan.

"Because I had to," Sam said breathlessly. "I couldn't let him kill you."

Lucifer brushed the hair out of Sam's eyes with exceptional gentleness. "You fool."

Sam nodded and his breath hitched. "Maybe."

He coughed again, and blood ran down his chin. He could hear a bubbling sound as he breathed, and he knew what that meant. The bullet had hit a lung, and he would drown on his own blood. As a method of death, it was fairly nasty.

Lucifer caressed his cheek. "I will heal you," he said.

Sam forced a smile. "I know."

Lucifer cupped Sam's cheek in his hand and Sam felt the warmth pass through him, but there was no release from the pain. Lucifer's eyes snapped opened, and he looked from Sam to Dean with mounting horror.

"Heal him!" Dean snarled. "You're an angel, now heal him!"

"The Colt!" Lucifer hissed. "You shot him with the Colt."

"You think I don't know that?" Dean asked angrily.

"I cannot heal an injury from the Colt," Lucifer said.

Sam thought that the news should have some effect on him, the news that he couldn't be healed, but it didn't affect him the way it should. It felt like he already knew it, and now he was just hearing it again. He was dying and that felt right, too. It was deserved. He was the one that brought the world crashing to its knees in the first place, after all. At least he got to be with people he loved when it happened. Dean was there, and Lucifer, too.

"You have to heal him!" Dean said desperately, and now Sam could see that it was indeed Lucifer that was holding him against the wall, as he was struggling to free himself. "You can't let him die."

Sam shook his head, and his vision swam. "S'okay, Dean, not your fault."

"My fault!" Dean's hands came up to knot in his hair. "Oh. God, Sam. I'm sorry. It's all my fault."

"No," Sam said with a hitching sigh. "It's okay."

Lucifer glared balefully at Dean. "See what you have done?"

"Stop, Lucifer. It's..." Sam paused to catch his breath, "not his fault. Don't blame him. Don't hurt him."

"But–"

Sam pressed a shaking finger to Lucifer's lips. "Promise me?"

Lucifer looked torn. Sam knew he was fighting his every instinct at the moment. He wanted to hurt Dean, to punish him for what happened, but to do that would be to hurt Sam.

Sam gathered the last vestiges of his strength. "Promise me?"

Lucifer nodded. "I promise."

Sam smiled. "Good." His eyes fogged and he allowed himself a moment of rest, cradled in Lucifer's arms. It wasn't so bad there. He was with the people he loved.

xXx

Sam's eyes fell closed, and Lucifer shook him gently. "Sam! Sam, open your eyes!" As Sam failed to respond, Lucifer's fear increased. "Sam, please!" Sam's eyes remained still beneath their lids, but still he lived. Lucifer could hear the bubbling breaths as they rasped in and out of his lungs.

"Sammy! Wake up!" another voice ordered. "C'mon, open your eyes." It was Dean, and he was speaking with increasing desperation.

His voice angered Lucifer. It was because of _him_ that this was happening. He had no right to feel fear or pain or grief or any of the things Lucifer was feeling because it was all _his_ fault! With a wave of his hand, Dean was rendered mute, and Lucifer was cruelly pleased. He no longer had to listen to him.

He focused on the man in his arms. Sam's eyes were closed, but the rest of his body was alive with movement. As Lucifer traced a thumb over the curve of Sam's cheek, he felt blood rushing below the surface of the skin, strengthening Sam and making him something other than meat. The rushing was slowing though, as were the gurgling breaths.

Lucifer looked across the room and he saw tears streaming down Dean's cheeks. He was staring at his brother as if by looking hard enough he could make him well again. He caught Lucifer's eye and his mouth opened noiselessly. He looked angry, and Lucifer wondered what he was trying to communicate. He didn't care enough to give him back his voice, though.

Sam's breaths were coming slower now. They hitched and rasped, and the pause between them was growing longer. Lucifer cupped Sam's face in his hand and rubbed a thumb over his cheek.

"It's okay, Sam," he said in his softest tones. "You're okay."

Sam was fighting, he could tell, and Lucifer knew his job was to make this as easy for him as it could he.

"You can let go now," he said, though what he really wanted was to beg Sam to stay, but that was a desire borne out of selfishness. "I am here, and your brother is here. You can let go."

He waited. There was one long drawn, gurgling breath, and then a deep exhale and no inhale. Sam was gone.

He bowed his head and kissed Sam's temple with almost reverent gentleness and then eased Sam down to the floor. Stepping back, he advanced on Dean, who was still pinned against the wall, looking over at Sam with an expression of abject devastation. He was mouthing words soundlessly.

Lucifer gave him back his voice and listened to what the murderer had to say.

"Sammy! No! Please, no! Don't do this!"

Lucifer released the force holding Dean against the wall and Dean dropped to his knees. His head bowed over and his forehead touched the floor. He was sobbing now and murmuring his brother's name.

"You!" Lucifer said through gritted teeth. "You did this!"

Dean looked up at him. "Kill me, then. It's what you want, right? It's what I want. So do it."

Lucifer closed his eyes and fought against the impulse to grant Dean's wish. He made a promise, a promise not to hurt Dean, to the man he loved, and he would keep that promise no matter what. Besides, Dean should have to live with what he had done, just as Lucifer must live with it.

"Why do you want to die?" he asked. "Michael will only bring you back to life again."

"Because maybe I'll get to see Sam before I came back," Dean said. "Then I can tell him I'm sorry."

"He knew it was an accident," Lucifer said, not understanding why he was speaking to the killer, but not able to stop himself. "He forgave you as soon as it happened."

Dean looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. "That's not the same thing as being able to talk to him."

He pushed himself to his feet and stepped slowly towards Sam. Lucifer moved to stand in his path.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"He is my brother," Dean said. "And if you're not going to kill me, the least you can do is let me say goodbye."

Lucifer stepped back and let Dean pass. Dean knelt down beside Sam and bent down to rest his forehead against his brother's. "I'm so sorry, Sammy," he whispered.

Dean looked up at Lucifer. "Can't you heal him? Can't you bring him back like Castiel did for me?"

Lucifer sighed. "I don't know."

"You have to try. Tell me you're going to try!"

Lucifer nodded. "I can try. I was always going to try. It's just that I am..." He frowned. "I am afraid it might not work."

Dean huffed in exasperation. "Do it then!"

Lucifer frowned and crouched down beside Sam. "If it works, I do not want him awakening on the floor, coated in his own blood."

He scooped Sam into his arms and got carefully to his feet. Holding Sam close against his body, he climbed the stairs and went into Sam's bedroom. With exceptional care, he laid him down on the bed and stepped back, not knowing what to do next.

"I can clean him up," Dean offered.

Lucifer nodded. "His belongings all seem to be in that duffel. I will wait outside." He was loathe to leave Sam, but he knew Dean would take care of him and they deserved privacy for this.

He stepped out into the hall and listened to Dean's murmuring voice as he spoke to his fallen brother. There was the sound of rustling clothes and water running. Then, suddenly, he was no longer alone. There was a second person's presence beside him.

"Castiel," he said without removing his eyes from the door.

"Lucifer."

"Sam fell," he said, turning to face Castiel at last.

Castiel tilted his head to the side. "You were unable to heal him?"

"It was an injury from the Colt. There was no healing it."

"Are you able to resurrect him?"

"I am to try in a moment. Dean is tending to him now."

There was the sound of plodding footsteps behind the door, and then it swung open. Sam was changed. He was dressed in a clean, white shirt and fresh jeans and he had been laid out on the bed. If it wasn't for the unnatural stillness and the pallor of his skin, it would be possible to believe he was sleeping.

"So, what do you have to do?" Dean asked.

Castiel put his hand on Dean's arm. "Just let him work, Dean."

Dean and Castiel stepped back to stand by the door, and Lucifer sat himself on the edge of the bed. He took one of Sam's hands in his own and manipulated the fingers so they are entwined. He drew a deep breath and then laid his other hand on Sam's forehead.

He closed his eyes in concentration and reached for Sam with his grace. He could feel Sam's soul, burning bright and pure, and he focused on it, drawing it back into the body.

xXx

The last thing Sam remembered was a voice, whispering to him, telling him that it was okay, to let go, and then he was free. He was in a place where no pain or trouble or guilt could find him, and he was at peace, and then Sam felt himself being torn away from the happy, peaceful place and forced, struggling, back into his body. He cried out at the pain of it.

Then his senses were assaulted. There was noise and touch and scents all overwhelming him. He jerked as if electrocuted and scrambled back until his shoulders meet an irresistible force. He curled into a ball, covering his head with his arms.

"It's okay, Sam," a soothing voice said. "You're safe."

Sam opened his eyes and lifted his arms from his head hesitantly. He recognized that voice. It was the voice that spoke to him as he died, comforting him and leading him away.

He opened his eyes, and a smiling face came into focus.

"Lucifer?"

"I'm here."

Lucifer laid his hand out on the blanket beside Sam, palm facing up. It was a reassurance and a question, and Sam didn't hesitate before laying his hand down in Lucifer's. Lucifer brought up a hand slowly and cupped Sam's cheek. Sam leaned into the touch, feeling the cool skin against his own heated skin.

"I thought I lost you," Lucifer's voice quavered with emotion.

Sam tried to made sense of what had happened to him. He had been dying, and Lucifer hadn't been able to heal him. Then he was in the perfect place, and now he was back here. Lucifer must have saved him after all.

He looked into Lucifer's eyes. "Thank you."

Lucifer smiled. "You are most welcome."

"Sammy?" The voice was hoarse with emotion and it came from behind Lucifer. Sam looked and saw Dean standing with Castiel. Dean's eyes were red and troubled.

"Hey, Dean," he said.

Dean took a hesitant step forward and then faltered. His eyes fell to where Sam and Lucifer's hands were entwined. Sam felt no embarrassment, but he wanted to be able to greet his brother properly, so he released Lucifer's hand reluctantly and pushed himself to the edge of the bed. Lucifer gripped his elbow as he stood, as if to steady him. Sam needed no steadying though; he had never felt better in his life.

He walked closer and opened his arms to his brother, and Dean practically fell into them. He gripped the back of Dean's jacket and held him close. It felt like forever since he left his brother in that warehouse, and this was the reunion he had been hoping for ever since that day.

"Sammy, man, I'm so sorry," Dean said, pulling away and looking Sam in the eye. "I never would have... You know I wouldn't, right?"

"I know," Sam said. "It was an accident."

Dean nodded, and took a deep breath. "Right, then, let's go. C'mon, Cas."

Castiel stepped away from the wall and came to stand beside Dean.

"Go?" Sam took a step back to stand beside Lucifer who had risen to his feet. "I'm not going anywhere."

Dean rolled his eyes. "He's not going to keep you prisoner after what happened, are you?" He looked to Lucifer.

"No, Sam is free to go wherever he chooses," Lucifer said, looking sad.

"See? Now, came on." Dean stepped forward and tugged on Sam's sleeve. "We're going."

"I'm not going, Dean," Sam said again. "I'm not a prisoner anymore, but I'm staying."

"Why the hell would you want to do that? He's giving you a free pass, Sammy. Let's shag ass."

"I can't leave him, Dean," Sam said sadly. "I..." He trailed off.

"You what?" Dean demands. "Feel guilty? Have some kind of twisted Stockholm Syndrome? What?"

Sam swallowed and turned away from Dean to look at Lucifer. "No. I love him."

Lucifer's eyes bored into Sam's. "You do?"

Sam smiled and nodded. "I do."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

"You what?" Dean said, turning his head as if he'd somehow misunderstood. "I don't think I heard you right."

Sam looked between him and Lucifer, unsure of what to say.

Dean nodded for him to answer. "Well?"

"I said, I love him, Dean."

Dean's face tightened in anger, and he charged forward toward Lucifer. "You!" Dean snapped as he reached for Lucifer's throat. Castiel grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. Lucifer stepped forward and pushed Sam behind him.

"Dean," Sam said firmly, peering out from behind Lucifer. "Calm down."

Dean raised his brows. "Calm down, Sam? Really, dude, after that bomb you just dropped on me."

"Dean," Castiel said carefully. "Perhaps we should reconvene to talk later when we've had a chance to calm down."

"Reconvene my ass! We need to talk about this now."

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You're treating this like it's a bad thing, Dean, when it's not."

"Am I the only sane one here?" Dean asked, raking a hand through his hair.

Sam sighed. "Dean, don't be like this."

"You were just _dead_, Sam! I've barely adjusted to that, and now you go saying you love the Devil. The Devil, Sam, the thing that is right now probably plotting how to kill puppies. You can't love him." Dean crossed his arms over his chest, jutting out his chin. "I forbid it."

Sam's brow wrinkled and he squared his shoulders. "You forbid me loving him?"

"Yeah," Dean said with a nod. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"What are you ten?" Sam asked. "We're not having this conversation, Dean. I love him, and I'm not leaving him."

"So you're just going to go darkside on us?" Dean asked, eyes narrowing.

"You really think I'd do that?" Sam asked, hurt. He couldn't believe his brother would think he was capable of that.

"You're telling me you love the Devil, Sam. That's blown everything I thought I knew out of the water. How am I supposed to know what you're thinking?"

"I believe," Lucifer said turning to look at Sam and then back to Dean, "that this is something best discussed between your brother and myself in private."

Sam nodded. "Go back to Bobby's. I'll come find you there."

"Go back to Bobby's!" Dean said incredulously. "I don't think so, Sam. You're coming with me. I'm done with this bullshit."

He reached forward for Sam, but Lucifer was faster. He rested a hand on Sam's arm, and then they were gone. Sam's eyes snapped closed and when they reopened, he was standing on a white sandy beach.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"This is the island of Membata. It's uninhabited, so we will not be disturbed."

Sam drew a deep breath of the clean, salty air and looked around. The beach was lined with palm trees and ferns. Further down the beach, Sam can see a rocky outcropping. "It's beautiful."

"I thought we could use some place private."

Sam nodded. "Private is good." He started off towards the rocks, and Lucifer kept pace beside him. When he reached the rocks, he sat down and rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. "Lucifer, I need to know... Dean, he asked if I was going dark side. I can't do that, you know I can't, so I need to know, what are your plans?"

Sam was in love, that much he was certain of, but even love had its limits. Sam couldn't support Lucifer if he was insistent on continuing his plans for the apocalypse. He would have to leave him and go with Dean, and though it would kill him, he would have to work to find a way to end Lucifer. It would be more painful than anything that had happened to him to date, but love for one angel didn't overcome his responsibility to the world. He was the one to let Lucifer free, and if he was forced to, he would be the one to take him down.

Lucifer was silent for a moment; he looked out over the waves that were crashing against the rocks. "What would you like them to be?" he asked eventually.

Sam's brows pinched together. "What I would like is for you to give it all up, but I know you're not going to do that. You wouldn't—"

Lucifer put up a hand. "If that's what you wish, then I will."

"You'd do that?" Sam asked. "Just like that."

"For you, yes."

Sam was overwhelmed. His hands came up to his face and he scrubbed a hand over his eyes. The magnitude of what Lucifer was offering him took a moment to sink in. The apocalypse over. He couldn't quite believe it. "You mean it?" he asked. "No more apocalypse?"

Lucifer smiled. "I mean it. I will end my plans now if that is what you wish."

"No strings attached?" Sam couldn't help himself. It was Lucifer after all.

Lucifer nodded and then reached out for Sam's hand. "I would give up the world for you."

Sam swallowed. He was without words. He laced his fingers with Lucifer's and Lucifer gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"You look overwhelmed," Lucifer said.

"I feel it," Sam said. "It's been a hell of a day."

Lucifer nodded and looked thoughtful. "How are you feeling, though?"

Sam shrugged. "Confused."

Lucifer smiled. "I meant physically, but I understand your emotions must also be chaotic at the moment."

Sam ran a hand over his chest where the bullet hit. "It doesn't feel any different. I remember what happened, and I remember the pain, but there's nothing now. Whatever you did, it fixed it all. Thank you."

"I wish I had been able to heal you when it mattered," Lucifer said bitterly. "Instead you were forced to..."

"Die?" Sam suggests. "Don't worry. It's not the first time it's happened." Lucifer looked pained, and Sam squeezed his hand softly. "It's okay, Lucifer. I'm fine now."

He felt good. His mind refused to dwell on what happened immediately after he died, the place he had been. He would not think about that.

"So, how did you find this place?" he asked.

"I come here a lot. I like to think in peace, and this place meets my needs."

Sam chuckled. "I always imagined you going somewhere different to think, somewhere... I don't know, evil."

Lucifer threw back his head and laughed raucously. "Somewhere evil? Where would you consider to be a suitably evil place for me to think?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, a crypt or something."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "You amuse me, Sam, even when you don't intend to."

Sam considered for a moment and decided that it was probably a good thing that he could amuse Lucifer, as he didn't have a lot else to offer.

Sam stared out at the crashing waves and his brow furrowed.

"What's wrong?" Lucifer asked.

"Nothing's wrong. It's just a lot, you know? I'm trying to absorb it all. I'm trying to wrap my mind around all this. Everything has changed in a short space of time, and my brain's still trying to catch up with my heart."

"I understand. I had the same reaction when the truth was pointed out to me."

"Who pointed it out?" Sam asked curiously.

"My brother, Gabriel. He understood before I did. You must understand, human emotions are foreign to me, and I didn't realize what I was feeling was love. He saw it in the pages your friends and brother had been reading, and he came to me."

"If he saw it in the pages, why is it such a shock to Dean?" Sam wondered aloud.

"Gabriel only saw it because he was knows me so well. He saw the changes in me in the pages, though to your brother, who does not know me, they would have been evidence of my manipulating you. It's all about point of view."

"When did it happen for you?" Sam asked. "When did I go from being your vessel to someone you love?"

"I believe it began the day you saved the child. I was in awe that you, a simple human, could overpower my father's will. After that, it was easy. I came to love everything about you."

Sam blushed and looked down at the ground. He had not had anyone speak to or about him like this in years, not since Jessica died.

"And you?" Lucifer asked. "When did you come to love me?" He looked delighted as he asked, as if saying the words aloud made it real to him.

"It'd probably been coming on for a while, but I think it was the demon blood that did it. You didn't judge me or lock me away. You gave me exactly what I needed at that time, and when the time came for me to pay for what I had done, you were there for that, too. You saw me at my absolute worst and you didn't cringe away from me. You were there."

Lucifer nodded thoughtfully. "I could not have done it any other way."

Sam smiled. "Thank you."

Lucifer brought a hand up to Sam's face, and he ran the pad of his thumb over Sam's cheek. "I love you," he said as if that was explanation for everything.

"I know," Sam said with a smile.

"Shall we go back to your brother now? I imagine he is growing anxious."

Sam sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I guess we'd better."

Lucifer frowned. "We don't have to."

"No, we should. I'm just not looking forward to facing him again."

"We have good news to share now. There will be no more apocalypse."

"Yeah," Sam rubbed at the back of his neck. "There's that, I guess. I have a feeling he is still going to be a hard sell as far as me and you go."

"Do we need his approval?" Lucifer asked.

Sam shook his head. "No, but I would like his acceptance. I don't want you both at each other's throats. We're going to have to learn to work together." Sam considered for a moment. What was going to happen next? He tried to imagine Lucifer sitting around at Bobby's with the rest of them, but he couldn't. The idea was too strange.

"Come on, Sam," Lucifer said. "Let's go back to your brother. I can hear him calling."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Dean is praying to you?"

"More like bellowing."

Sam got to his feet and gripped Lucifer's hand a little tighter. He had a feeling he was going to need the comfort.

* * *

Dean threw opened Bobby's front door and stomped into the study.

Bobby was sitting at the desk with a half-empty bottle of whiskey beside him and an empty glass. He looked up and visibly started as he caught sight of Dean.

"Jesus, you're alive!" He gasped, then his eyes found the blood on Dean's jacket and shirt. "Please tell me that's Lucifer's," he said in a shaky tone.

"No, it's Sam's."

Bobby paled. "Sam's?"

"Don't worry, he died, but Lucifer brought him back."

"He... Lucifer..." Bobby picked up a heavy book and lobbed it at Dean. It caught him on the arm.

"What the hell, Bobby?"

"I'll give you what the hell, Bobby. You came in here, covered in your brother's blood, and proceed to tell me he died, and then you tell me not to worry!" He picked up another book, and Dean threw his arms up to defend himself.

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I guess in the grand scheme of things that doesn't seem like the worst news anymore."

"You best start talking some sense," Bobby said. "Or so help me..."

"Sam is well," Castiel stated. "He died but Lucifer was able to resurrect him."

Bobby exhaled a shaky breath. "And he is okay now?"

"As far as we know he is fine," Castiel said. "We didn't have long with him before he and Lucifer went elsewhere to be alone."

"Well, okay," Bobby said doubtfully. "So he's still a prisoner."

Dean scoffed. "I wish. No, he has completely gone over this time. Remember the nervous breakdown we thought he was having? Well, he is full blown cuckoo's nest now!"

Bobby glared at Dean and then turned to Castiel. "Cas, you seem to be the only one capable of giving me a straight answer, so how's about you fill me in on what's been happening."

Castiel nodded. "Sam has expressed affection for Lucifer, and I believe it's of his own free will that he has fallen in love."

"With who?" Bobby asked blankly.

"With _Lucifer_!" Dean spat the name. "Sam thinks he is in love with the Devil."

"Well... shit," Bobby said breathlessly. "Didn't see that coming."

He poured himself a glass of whisky and knocked in back in one swallow. Dean took the bottle and gulped at the amber liquid.

"So, what are we going to do now?" Bobby asked.

Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I don't know. I don't even know where they are now."

Castiel cleared his throat. "You could pray to him."

"You want me to pray to the Devil?" Dean asked with a quirked brow.

"It is the most effective way of communicating with him," Castiel said patiently.

"Fine, you want me to pray?" He raised his eyes to the ceiling and closed his eyes. "Oh, Lucifer, if you're listening, do me a favor, and get your feathered ass back here with my brother. _Now!"_

He turned to look at Castiel. "How was that?"

Castiel frowned. "I believe you may have done nothing but anger him."

Dean shrugged. "Hey, he won't hurt me. I'm his lover's brother."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "You prepared to bet your life on that?"

"Damn right, I am. What's he gonna do, smite me?"

"I would never do that," a soft voice said behind him.

Dean spun on his heel and saw Lucifer and Sam standing in the archway.

"You're back!" he said in an unnaturally high tone.

"Yep." Sam let go of Lucifer's hand and peered around Dean to smile at Bobby. "Hey, Bobby."

"Hey, boy. It's good to see you," Bobby said with a smile. "I hear you got some news for me."

Sam smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do. This is Lucifer. He..."

"Enough of this horseshit!" Dean snapped, stepping forward and shoving Sam's shoulders. "You bring him here, to Bobby's home! Why don't you just kill us all and get it over with?"

Lucifer stepped forward as if to confront Dean, but Sam pushed a hand against his chest, holding him back. Apparently satisfied that Lucifer wasn't going to smite Dean where he stood, he turned back to Dean.

"Yes, I brought him here, because I trust him. You should, too. You saw what he did for me. Why would he hurt us?"

"Because he is Satan, Sam! Are you damaged? Do you forget who you are talking about? He kidnapped you and held you hostage."

"I haven't forgotten," Sam said. "But it's different now. He is different!"

"The only thing that's different here is you!" Dean threw his hands in the air. "What are you thinking? How could you do this?"

"Do what? I haven't done anything but fall in love, Dean. I can't control that."

"Well you damn well should try. It's the Devil, Sam, the Devil. What part of that don't you understand?"

Sam leaned forward so he was in Dean's space. "What's this really about? The fact I fell in love with Lucifer or the fact Lucifer is a man?"

"Trust me, the least of my concerns at the moment is his junk."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "I trust him, and you should trust me, too!"

"How can you say that, after what he has done, what he's planning on doing?" Dean asked. "He wants to end us all, Sam. You might be safe, but what about the rest of us?"

Sam stepped back, reeling from Dean's words. "You think I would be anywhere near him if I believed he would hurt you? Or anyone else for that matter? Do you really have that low an opinion of me?"

Dean swallowed and bit at his lip in thought. "Well, no. But that's not the point, Sam. You have to see that your eggs are a bit scrambled here. Look what he is capable of. Please, Sammy, think about this."

"I feel this is a good time for me to interject," Lucifer said. "Sam and I have already come to an agreement regarding my... plans. I have agreed not to execute them, and as soon as I am certain Sam is safe here, I will go to negate the things I have already set in motion."

"See?" Sam said. "He is on our side. He is not trying to hurt anyone anymore."

Dean scowled at Lucifer. "You're seriously giving it up, just like that? Excuse me if I don't believe you."

"What proof do you require?" Lucifer asked.

Dean scoffed. "Proof? Okay, how about this, you say you're giving it all up, then how about the horsemen's rings?"

Lucifer put his hand into his pocket and pulled out an ugly silver ring with a black stone. He held it out to Dean. "Here, this is Famine's ring."

"You're just going to give it to me?" Dean asked.

"Why wouldn't I?" Lucifer asked. "I am trying to prove to you that I am on your side."

Dean nodded. "I'll start to believe you when you hand it over." He extended his hand.

Lucifer tilted his hand and the ring dropped into Dean's palm. Dean's fingers snapped closed around the ring and he nodded jerkily.

"You might want to bury it with War's ring," Lucifer said. "They are exceptionally powerful."

"So, right then, what now?" Bobby asked.

"Well," Lucifer said. "I was thinking I could perhaps aid you with your mobility situation."

Bobby's eyebrows rose. "You can fix me?" He sounded scared to hope.

Lucifer nodded. "I may be fallen, but I am still an archangel."

Bobby smiled as Lucifer stepped forward.

As Dean watched, he was forced to admit that things were changing. Time would tell if it's for the good or the bad, though.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

Sam and Lucifer materialized outside the hotel in Michigan. They had come to collect Sam's belongings and to deal with the demons that were left. Dean and Cas were coming to collect the Impala, but they hadn't arrived yet.

Lucifer held his hand out to Sam, and Sam took it without hesitation. He thought it should feel strange to be holding Lucifer's hand so much, but it felt as natural as breathing to him. Everything that had happened—dying and being brought back to life, Lucifer renouncing the apocalypse—made the simple act of showing affection seem positively tiny in comparison.

They stepped into the hotel lobby, and Sam stopped dead in his tracks. In the center of the room, there was a large, smeared pool of blood. His blood. The sight stole his breath. He knew it had been bad—he had died, after all—but to see the physical proof of it was something else.

Lucifer was staring at the blood, too, and a scowl creased his brow. Sam squeezed his hand and Lucifer shook his head, as if dispelling an unpleasant thought, and smiled at Sam.

"Are you okay?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah... it's just a lot, you know?"

"I know," Lucifer said gently.

Together, they walked up the stairs and into Sam's old room. Sam heard movement behind the other doors as they passed and he knew it was the demons. Lucifer had not told him what he would do with them. He just said they must be 'dealt with'. If Sam was in their position, he would be very nervous.

Sam grabbed his duffel from the floor and moved around the room collecting his possessions and stuffing them inside. Lucifer sat on the end of the bed watching him.

In the bathroom, Sam found a pile of blood soaked clothes in the sink. It was the clothes he had been wearing when he was shot. He fingered the small hole in the shirt that the bullet made. It was so small, but it did so much damage. His breath hitched.

"Sam, are you okay in there?" Lucifer called.

"Yeah, I'll just be a minute."

He stuffed the clothes into a laundry bag, thinking that he would burn them when he got back to Bobby's. He grabbed his toiletries and went back into the room. Stuffing them into his bag, he looked around for anything he might have missed.

"Do you have everything?" Lucifer asked.

Sam nodded. "What happens next?"

"I must deal with the demons."

"What are you going to do with them?"

Lucifer tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I think I will exorcise them and modify their memories to wipe my presence from their thoughts. There's no need for them to spend the rest of their lives fearing the Devil."

Sam's eyes widened. "You can do that? I thought you'd just kill them all."

Lucifer smiled indulgently. "I am an archangel, Sam. I can kill them if you prefer, but I thought you and your brother would be happier if there were fewer deaths on my account."

"Definitely." Sam nodded. "Dean will be pleased. He might not say it, but he'll be thinking it."

Lucifer smiled. "Very well."

Sam shouldered his duffel and followed Lucifer out onto the hall. He knocked on another of the doors, and a moment later, it opened to reveal a demon. It was the woman that brought Sam his meal before. She was practically quaking with fear as she saw Lucifer.

"It's okay," Lucifer said in a gentle tone. "I am not going to hurt you."

He reached out a hand slowly and touched her temple. A moment later, she slumped toward the ground. Sam stepped forward and caught her.

"Is she alive?" he asked Lucifer.

"Yes, she is quite well, just unconscious. I will attend to her memories now." He put his hand on her temple as Sam cradled her, and Lucifer's brows furrow with concentration. When he was done, Sam carried the sleeping woman to the bed and laid her down gently. Lucifer watched him with a strange expression.

"What?" Sam asked.

Lucifer shook his head. "Nothing."

Slowly, they worked their way through the hotel, finding Lucifer's demons. Sam watched Lucifer as he worked, and he was struck by the care he showed. He believed it was for his benefit, that Lucifer was being so gentle, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

They were just attending to the last demon when Sam heard a voice calling from the lobby. "Sammy, you here?"

Lucifer smiled. "Your brother doesn't trust me with you."

Sam shrugged. "He will eventually. He's had a rough few days. He just needs to wrap his mind around the idea of us and he'll be fine."

At least Sam hoped he would be. He was not so naive to think that Dean and Lucifer were ever going to be friends, but he hoped that Dean could at least came to accept Lucifer for who he was—the man Sam loved. He supposed it would be difficult for Dean to accept anyone new into their lives, least of all Lucifer. With everything that'd happened, he guessed he should just be glad Dean wasn't still trying to kill Lucifer.

Sam went to the stairs and met his brother in the lobby. Dean was staring at the bloodstain the same way Sam had. Sam stepped in front of it, blocking Dean's view. He knew it must be even harder for Dean to see the blood than it had been for him.

"Hey," Dean said. "You and Satan get everything cleared up here?"

Sam frowned. "_Lucifer_ is just dealing with the last demon now."

"So we got a pile of dead bodies to deal with!" Dean huffed. "That's just great."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "Actually, no. We have a pile of unconscious humans with their memories wiped."

Dean whistled. "Okay, that's definitely better than what I imagined."

Sam nodded. "I thought so, too."

Lucifer came down the stairs, carrying Sam's duffel. "We should leave," he said. "They will be waking soon."

Sam nodded and reached out for the duffel. "Okay then." He turned to Dean. "Meet you back at Bobby's?"

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck. "I was thinking we could drive back. Me and you," he added, as if fearing Lucifer was going to want to come along for the ride.

Sam shrugged. "Okay." He turned to Lucifer. "I'll see you at Bobby's."

Lucifer nodded. "Take care."

Sam smiled. "I will."

Dean tugged on his arm, and Sam followed him out to the Impala. He threw his duffel on to the back seat and climbed into the car. The familiar scent of leather greeted him, and the seat cradled his tall form just the way he remembered. It felt good to be back home.

Dean climbed in beside him and brought the engine to life. Sam looked through the window and waved to Lucifer and Castiel who were standing outside the hotel. Castiel looked much as he always did—slightly bewildered—while Lucifer smiled and raised his own hand.

"You two are making me sick," Dean groaned.

Sam chuckled. "Like I haven't spent half my life watching you crack on to chicks."

"That's different," Dean said.

"Because they're women?" Sam said irritably.

"No, because they weren't Satan."

Sam groaned. "If you're going to start that crap up, you might as well pull over now. I'm not going the next eight-hundred miles listening to you bitch about Lucifer."

"Sorry, sorry," Dean said, looking askance at him. "Answer me one question and I'll stop bitching."

"Okay," Sam said. "Shoot."

"What is it about him that you love?"

Sam didn't need to think hard for the answer. "He has seen me at my very worst and he didn't cringe away. No one has ever done that for me in my life."

Dean scowled but didn't comment. Sam guessed he was thinking the same thing Sam was: Demon blood. Dean and Bobby left him in the panic room to suffer through it alone. He understood why they did it, and he couldn't honestly say he wouldn't have done the same if the roles were reversed. He would never know, as neither Dean nor Bobby would be stupid enough to do that to themselves in the first place. But the fact was Lucifer was there for Sam, and he saw him through it all. That was one of the many reasons Sam loved Lucifer. It was not about who he was or what he did, it's about who he was now, and who he was now just saved over a dozen humans by exorcising them and wiping their memories rather than killing them. He was a good person.

They rode in silence for a while, and then Dean broke the silence by clearing his throat.

Sam turned to him and waited for him to speak. Dean opened his mouth a couple of times and closed it again before he found his voice.

"So... when you were shot... Do you, um..."

"Do I remember?" Sam asked.

"No, well, yeah, but that's not what I'm asking. I want to know what happened to you... after."

Sam frowned and then he understood. He drew a shaky breath. "You want to know where I went when I died?"

Dean nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.

"I didn't go to Hell, Dean," Sam said softly.

Dean exhaled in a rush. It was obviously what he had been worried about. "So, you went to Heaven?" he asked.

Sam smiled. "Don't ask me how, but yeah. Somehow I ended up in Heaven."

"What was it like?" Dean asked looking across at Sam.

Sam sighed. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to think about the place that he had been, the place he had lost. He was making the best with what he had, and what he had was more than great, but it was not the same as the perfect, peaceful place he had been.

"You told me once that there aren't words to describe Hell," he said. "The same goes for Heaven."

Dean looked at him, and for a moment, Sam thought he was going to question him further but thankfully, he didn't. Sam was relieved. He could perhaps talk to Lucifer about Heaven, as he understood, he had once been cast out, but he couldn't talk to Dean about it. He couldn't talk to Dean about what he'd lost.

* * *

By the time they passed through Chicago, Sam's stomach was growling, so Dean pulled over at a diner. It was familiar and comforting, to sit with Dean at a table and to listen to him ordering his bacon cheeseburger with extra onions. Sam ordered himself a salad and coffee.

As they waited for their food to arrive, Dean cleared his throat and Sam looked up. Dean's brow was creased, and he was staring moodily into his coffee. Sam braced himself, thinking another conversation about Lucifer was coming, but Dean caught him completely off guard with what he said next.

"Thanks, Sammy."

Sam looked at him blankly. "For what?"

"For what you did, going to Lucifer like that. I know it can't have been an easy decision to made, and I want you to know I appreciate what you went through for me."

"You're wrong," Sam said. "It was easy." Dean looked confused, and Sam explained. "If I hadn't gone to Lucifer, that Hellhound would have killed you. It was only the fact that Lucifer called them off when he did that saved you."

"Yeah, real nice guy Lucifer."

Sam ignored the jibe. "So there was no decision to make. As soon as I realized I had a way to save you, I took it."

"You say that like it's that simple," Dean said, scrubbing a hand over his face and sitting back.

Sam tried to find a way to explain it, and he stumbled across a comparison. "When you went to the crossroads after I died, was it a decision you labored over for hours?"

Dean shook his head, his expression darkening as he remembered. "No. As soon as I thought of it, I did it. It was the answer."

Sam nodded. "It was the same for me. It was probably easier for me, too. I knew Lucifer wouldn't kill me. He needed me too much,"

Dean rested his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. "I get that. Well, thank you."

Sam shrugged. "It's what we do,"

Dean smiled. "Let's not made a habit of it, okay?"

"Agreed."

Their food arrived, and Sam was halfway through his meal when he felt Dean's eyes on him again. He looked up. "What?"

"I want to ask you something, and it's kinda personal."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Since when had anything been too personal between us?"

Dean nodded. "Well, this is kinda different. It's about you and Lucifer."

Sam choked on his mouthful of coffee, and it took him a moment to catch his breath. "You want to know about us?"

Dean shook his head. "Not like that! Hell, no. I was just wondering..." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Have you always been... you know?"

"Gay?" Sam said.

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"No, and I don't think of myself as gay now. It's Lucifer I love as a person. His vessel just happens to be a man. If you want to call me something, call me angel-sexual."

Dean snorted. "So, Cas?"

Sam laughed. "As you said, hell, no! It's Lucifer as he is. It's who he is that I love. The packaging is incidental."

"So you and Lucifer are gonna, you know," Dean gestured vaguely in the air.

"Have sex?" Sam supplied with a smirk.

Dean cringed. "Yeah."

Sam shrugged. "Yeah. I guess so. It is what couples do, Dean."

A shiver visibly passed through Dean and he closed his eyes. "Let's forget we had this little conversation, okay?"

"You're the one who brought it up, man."

"Never happened," Dean said firmly, turning his attention to his burger once again.

Sam grinned, thinking of how good it felt to be back to his normal life with Dean.

xXx

When they got back to Bobby's, they found him waiting on the porch for them. Sam was initially concerned that something had happened, but it transpired that Bobby just heard them coming.

"I can't seem to sit still," he confessed. "I spent the night walking up and down the stairs."

"That sounds suitably stupid," Dean said. "Hey, Sammy, you think your boyfriend can heal dementia."

Bobby swiped at Dean's arm. "Watch your tongue, boy. I'm back on my feet now, which means I can kick your ass if I need to."

Dean chuckled. "'Course you can, Bobby."

"Lucifer not back yet?" Sam asked.

Bobby shook his head. "He and Cas dropped by to let me know you two were driving back, and then they disappeared again."

Sam shrugged and tried not to let his disappointment show. Judging by the amused look Bobby gave him, he was not successful.

"Well, I'm hitting the hay," Dean announced. "I can't remember the last decent night's sleep I had. What are you doing, Sammy?"

"There something I need to do," Sam said, getting his duffel from the backseat of the car. "I'll be in soon."

Dean and Bobby nodded and went inside, and Sam pulled the bag of bloody clothes from his duffel. He could easily throw them away, but he liked the symbology of burning them. He dropped them into the barrel by the garage and poured over some lighter fluid. He dropped a match down onto the pile and stepped back as the flames roared up.

He stood silently, watching the fire, thinking over everything that had happened over the last few days. It felt like a lifetime ago that he set out for the diner against Lucifer's orders.

There was a soft rustling sound and then he felt arms slip around him and a chin resting on his shoulder. "You're thinking deep thoughts," Lucifer said into his ear.

Sam smiled and leaned back against him. "I was thinking of how things have changed."

"All for the better, I hope."

"Definitely for the better." Sam sighed. "Where were you?"

Lucifer's arms slipped from around him, and Sam turned to look at him. Lucifer looked a little guilty.

"Lucifer, what have you been doing?" Sam asked.

"I had to deal with Death."

"Death as in the horseman? _The_ Death?"

Lucifer nodded. "The last horseman to be raised, yes."

"When did that happen?"

Lucifer frowned. "You must understand, I was very angry, and I..."

"Lucifer!"

"After I expressed my feelings to you, I went to Carthage and raised him."

"You raised a horseman because you were angry?" Sam asked, and then threw up his arms. "Of course you did. What is Death doing now? Or shouldn't I ask?"

"Death is doing nothing," Lucifer said. "I have attended to him and he is working within the constraints he always has."

"So this isn't you slipping from the no-more-apocalypse promise?"

Lucifer looked hurt. "Do you really believe me capable of that? I promised I would stop my plans, and I have. Today I was merely dealing with what I already set in motion."

Sam held his hands up. "Okay. I'm sorry. I just thought..."

"You thought I betrayed you already," Lucifer said.

"No," Sam said. "Well, yes, but I'm sorry. I shouldn't have doubted you." He stepped forward and entwined his fingers with Lucifer's. "I'm sorry."

Lucifer looked at their clasped hands. "I should expect this. I am the Devil."

"Not to me," Sam said, stepping closer. "You're Lucifer to me."

Lucifer looked into his eyes, and Sam became lost. He stepped forward without thinking and leaned close to Lucifer. His cheek rested against Lucifer's stubbly one, and he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Lucifer leaned against Sam, tilting his head, causing his cheek to rub against Sam's. Then he turned and their lips met. Sam expected it to feel strange, rough skin instead of soft, stubble instead of smooth. What he didn't expect was for it to feel so natural and right. As if two pieces of a puzzle were clicking together. His lips parted and he felt Lucifer's breath against him. Lucifer was hesitant and unknowing, but Sam knew this. This was familiar to him. He swallowed the little moan Lucifer made as their tongues touched and cradled the back of Lucifer's head with his hand.

In this at least, Sam was the one that knew.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five **

When Dean got down to the kitchen the next morning, Bobby was standing at the counter alone, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. He looked up at Dean as he entered and smiled.

"You okay?"

Dean nodded, looking around the room. "Where's Cas and Satan?"

"I haven't seen Cas since he came by yesterday, and Lucifer is outside somewhere. How about Sam?"

"He's still snoring up a storm."

The coffee machine beeped and Bobby poured himself and Dean each a mug. Dean looked at the idle computer on the table and thought how strange it was to not be waiting on Chuck to deliver that day's pages. It was great to have Sam back with them, but Dean wished it didn't come at such a price. Having Lucifer along for the ride wasn't ideal.

Dean took his mug out to the back porch and sat down on the steps. He couldn't see Lucifer around, but he knew he was close; the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. He wondered how Sam could see past things like that to be close to Lucifer.

He heard the sound of footsteps, and a moment later, Lucifer appeared from around a stack of junkers.

"Good morning, Dean," he said politely.

Dean grunted in response.

"I would like to talk to you," Lucifer said.

"Go ahead."

Lucifer stepped a little closer, but he didn't sit down beside Dean. He leaned against the railing and looked down at Dean. "I imagine the situation between your brother and myself is difficult for you to understand."

Dean scoffed. "You can say that again."

"But I want you to know," Lucifer said, continuing as if he hadn't heard Dean's words, "that I love your brother, and I would never do anything to hurt him. I know it is going to take time for me to earn your trust, and I will endeavor to do whatever it takes to do that."

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably. The last thing he wanted was a heart to heart with the Devil, but he had a feeling that was he didn't let Lucifer get it out of his system now, he would continue to try until he succeeded. "I trust you with Sammy," he said. "I know you won't hurt him, but it's the rest of the world I don't trust you with."

"Don't you see? To do anything against the world would be to hurt Sam, and I can never do that."

Dean sighed, "That sounds great and all, but I've seen proof of what you're capable of doing to the world."

Lucifer frowned. "You mean the Croatoan world that Zachariah showed you?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, the post-apocalyptic hell."

Lucifer looked thoughtful. "I admit it was my intention to bring humanity to its knees by turning people against each other, but I have forsworn that world for Sam."

"It's that easy?" Dean asked. "You just decide you don't want to do it anymore and that's that."

"Hardly," Lucifer said, examining his fingernails. "I must deal with Pestilence. He is the mastermind behind the Croatoan virus."

"So, if you don't stop him..."

"The virus will be released and the world will fall."

Dean got to his feet. "There you go then. You want to prove to me that you've changed, that has to be the first step. You call off your horseman and then we can talk about you and Sammy actually having a chance at working."

Lucifer nodded. "This is a conversation your brother should be present for. I will go wake him."

"I don't think so," Dean said quickly. "I'll wake him up. I don't want you two macking on my bed. I have to sleep in that room, too."

"Very well," Lucifer said.

Dean went back into the house and up the stairs to his and Sam's room. Sam was sleeping with his head pillowed on his arms and his legs tangled in the blankets.

"Rise and shine, Sammy," Dean said, slapping his shoulder.

"What's going on?" he said sleepily.

"Your boyfriend has dropped a pile of crap on our laps, and we've got to sort it out."

Sam untangled his legs from the blanket and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing at his eyes. He pulled on a pair of jeans and got to his feet.

"What's Lucifer done?"

"Turns out saying you won't end the world and actually proving it are two very different things. Croatoan world is still on."

Sam grabbed a shirt from his duffel. "Okay."

"Okay? That's all you've got to say?"

"What do you want me to say, Dean? He's made mistakes, and now he is working to fix them. He took care of Death last night, and today we'll deal with Pestilence."

"Mistakes?" Dean threw up his arms. "Grabbing a metric wrench when you're asking for a standard is a mistake. Almost ending the world is a choice."

Sam rolled his eyes and pushed past Dean. When Dean got to the study, Sam and Lucifer were standing leaning against the wall, shoulders touching, and looking at Bobby who was talking.

"So Pestilence is still out there, working on the Croatoan world?"

Lucifer nodded. "He must be stopped. I'm afraid it's more than a case of me calling him off. The virus is in production already. It is disguised as a vaccine for swine flu."

"That was your master plan?" Dean asked scathingly. "Infect the world with swine flu and then, when everyone's panicking, you bring out the 'vaccine'."

Lucifer nodded. "That was Pestilence's plan, yes."

"So we have to destroy the lab?" Sam asked, as if this was a normal conversation to be having.

"Technically it is more of a factory. Niveus Pharmaceuticals. " Lucifer said.

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "We're going to need firepower, a lot of it. And we need to get the humans out before it blows."

"I can retrieve whatever you need," Lucifer said. "And Pestilence must be stopped, too."

"How do you stop a horseman?" Bobby asked.

"The simplest way is what Dean and Sam did to War and I to Famine—to remove their ring. Without it, they are useless."

Dean nodded. "Fine, you go with Bobby and Cas to the factory, Sam. Me and your boyfriend can go deal with Pestilence."

Lucifer frowned. "Is there a reason you and I must go together."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, I want to keep an eye on you. Besides, you wanted a chance to prove yourself to me; killing your henchman will go a way towards that."

Lucifer didn't look pleased, but he didn't argue. Sam crossed the room and picked up a pad of paper and a pen from the desk. He wrote for a moment and then passed the paper to Lucifer. "This is what we're going to need. Do you think you can get it for us?"

Lucifer skimmed down the list and nodded. "There is an abundance of C4 at a government compound in Nevada. I will go now." He touched his forehead to Sam's for a moment, whispered something, and then he was gone.

Sam looked sickeningly disappointed at his exit, and Dean rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Loverboy, he'll be back soon enough. Let's distract you with some nice research. We need to know where the Niveus guys concoct their viruses."

* * *

Dean didn't particularly like being transported by angel mojo, and he liked it even less when Lucifer was doing the driving. He couldn't help but worry Lucifer would drop him into a volcano somewhere. But Lucifer was obliging, and they arrived outside a convalescent home in Davenport, Iowa.

"He is hanging out here?" Seriously?"

Lucifer nodded. "He is Pestilence. Where else would he be?

"I kinda imagined him just living on the road, spreading the plague as he goes."

Lucifer looked thoughtful. "That would perhaps be his plan if I had not bound him."

"So, are you going to just ask him nicely for his ring and hope he hands it over?" Dean asked.

"No. He may be bound, but he still has a survival instinct. He will likely become unpleasant. You might want to wait out here."

Dean shook his head. "No chance. I need to see you hack the finger off myself. You could come out with any old ring and tell me it's his."

Lucifer looked impatient. "You do realize who Pestilence is, don't you? Just being near him will make you sick."

"I've got a good immune system," Dean said carelessly. "I can handle it."

"Very well."

Lucifer strode off toward the main entrance, and Dean hurried after him. Lucifer swung open the door and gestured Dean in ahead of him. Dean gave him a speculative look. If Lucifer thought showing basic manners was going to change his mind about him, he was dead wrong. Dean wasn't a pushover like Sam apparently was.

There were nurses bustling around in pink scrubs, and they cast Lucifer nervous glances. One was braver than the rest; she came forward. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

Lucifer looked her up and down. "No, I don't think so."

He pushed past her and continued up the hall. Dean followed, giving the hurt looking nurse an apologetic look. They came to a room with a nameplate on the door. It said: Doctor Green. Lucifer pushed opened the door and entered.

"Lucifer!" a surprised voice said. "I didn't know you were coming here. I sent a report. Is there something wrong?"

Dean stepped in behind Lucifer and he saw a man with sparse grey hair and glasses. It had to be Pestilence.

"Who is this?" Pestilence asked.

"A friend," Lucifer said and Dean scoffed. He was not sure what he was to Lucifer, but it sure as hell wasn't a friend.

Pestilence blinked and looked closer at Dean. "But this is Dean Winchester." He smiled. "Have you brought him to me as a test subject?"

Dean felt nausea rise in him, and his knees buckled. It became hard to draw a breath, and his head pounded.

"What have you done to me?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

Pestilence peered down at him over his glasses. "You don't look so well. It might be the, uh, scarlet fever. Or, uh, the meningitis. Oh! Or the syphilis. That's no fun."

"Pestilence, remove your influence at once," Lucifer said coldly.

Pestilence looked confused. "Why would I do that?"

"Because I am ordering you to," Lucifer said. "That should be reason enough."

"Ahh, you see, it really isn't. I am doing your work for you, Lucifer, but I am not your lapdog. I am not War, who bowed to your every whim, or even Famine. My brothers gave everything to you, and look what happened to them."

The edges of Dean's vision grayed, and he felt like he was about to pass out. He had never felt so sick in his life. Even breathing was an effort. It was all he can do to keep pulling air in and out.

"Lucifer, do something," Dean said in a choked voice. He was so desperate for help that he didn't even care that it was the Devil he was calling on for help.

"Pestilence," Lucifer said in a warning tone.

"No, Lucifer," Pestilence said briskly.

Lucifer snapped back his wrist and his blade slipped into his hand. Dean heard Pestilence cry out in shock, and then there was the sound of the blade whooshing through the air. Pestilence bellowed, and Dean's face was spattered with blood. A moment later, Dean was being eased to his feet by Lucifer.

"What's he done to me?" Dean asked weakly.

"He has infected you," Lucifer said. "Don't worry, I can heal you."

Dean wasn't sure he trusted the Devil to do it right, but he didn't have it in him to argue. He flinched as Lucifer pressed his cold palm to his temple and then warmth rushed through him. His head cleared and he stepped away from Lucifer.

"What did you do?"

"I healed you," Lucifer said simply. "Are you feeling well now?"

Dean nodded. He looked down at Pestilence. He was rolling around on the floor, clutching a bloody stump where a hand used to be.

"You know, we only needed the finger," Dean said.

Lucifer shrugged. "I wasn't feeling precise today. A hand works just as well." He bent down and picked up the lone hand that was on the floor and held it out to Dean. Would you like to do the honors?

Feeling slightly sickened, Dean pulled the emerald ring from Pestilence's finger. "Are we done?" he asked.

Lucifer nodded. "Yes."

"What are you going to do with him?" Dean asked, looking down at the writhing horseman.

"Nothing. I have no need of him anymore. Shall we go to your brother? I believe they will be done with their act of domestic terrorism by now."

"Held up, there's something I want to talk to you about first."

Lucifer tilted his head to the side. "Of course. Shall I relocate us? His moans are starting to grate on me."

Pestilence's moans were annoying Dean, too, so he nodded. A moment later, they were standing in the middle of what looked like a forest.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"The Black Forest," Lucifer said. "I thought you would want privacy for our discussion."

"You brought me to Germany just so we'd have privacy?"

"Of course. I took Sam to an uninhabited island in the middle of the Indian Ocean for us to speak yesterday. This is just one of the things I can offer your brother."

Dean frowned. "That's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about."

Lucifer looked confused. "My travels with your brother?"

"No, well, yes, that too, but more your relationship with him."

Lucifer looked expectant.

Dean took a deep breath and tried to marshal his thoughts. He never thought he'd be having the big brother talk with anyone, let alone the Devil. "You're on our side," he said. "I didn't think you were, but I have to admit, after seeing you take out Pestilence, that you are."

Lucifer nodded. "I truly am. I love your brother, and for him, I am giving up everything I spent millennia plotting."

"Which brings me to what I want to say next." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Sam is all the family I have left. He is the most important person in my life."

"You love him," Lucifer said.

"Yeah, and I would do anything for him, to protect him. That includes protecting him from you. Now, I accept that you love him and you want to take care of him, but if that ever changes, if you so much as ruffle a hair on his head, I will hurt you."

Lucifer smiled. "I understand the sentiment, but you do realize what an ineffectual threat that is, don't you?"

Dean glared at him. "You might be the Devil, but I'm Dean Winchester. You hurt my brother and I will set your ass alight with holy oil faster than you can blink."

"Message received," Lucifer said. "Is there anything else?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, one thing. Sammy's strong, stronger than almost anyone I know, but he has a soft heart. He's been hurt before, hurt bad, and I don't want to see that happen to him again."

"I am aware of Sam's history. I know what happened to his girlfriend, and I know what that did to him. But I am incapable of hurting him like that. I will never die, Dean. I will never leave him."

"What about this fight with Michael? He can kill you."

Lucifer shook his head. "Michael is useless without a vessel. As long as you keep saying no, Michael cannot threaten me."

Dean considered that for a moment. He never wanted to give his life up for Michael, but he had even more cause now to say no now. Against his will, he had become the protector of his brother's lover and therefore his brother.

Like life wasn't already complicated enough.

* * *

Lucifer was pleased that Dean seemed to have given him his grudging approval. And while it was almost adorable in its ineffectiveness, his speech about what he would do if Lucifer hurt Sam was equally as pleasing. It was a further sign that Dean had accepted Lucifer for who he was to Sam.

He transported himself and Dean back to Mr. Singer's house, and they waited for the rest of their party to return. Dean went to shower, saying something about washing the filth of Pestilence away, and Lucifer sat down on the edge of the desk to wait.

He didn't have to wait long. There was the sound of an angel's approach and then they were there, expect there was something terribly wrong. Sam was being supported by Bobby, and he was bleeding.

Lucifer rushed forward and took Sam into his arms. "What happened?" he demanded.

"The demons saw us coming," Bobby said, relinquishing his grip on Sam to Lucifer. "They cracked opened a case of Croatoan and there were humans infected. We had to fight our way through. Sam got caught by a human with a knife."

"It's not as bad as it looks," Sam said, cradling his injured arm. "It's just a flesh wound."

Lucifer eased up the sleeve of Sam's shirt to see the wound. It was deep and would require stitches for a normal person without an archangel at his beck and call.

"You can fix it, right?" Bobby asked.

Lucifer nodded and placed a hand over the wound. He reached out with his grace and he felt the wound knitting together under his touch. When he pulled his hand away, there was merely a clear expanse of skin.

"Thanks, Lucifer," Sam said.

Lucifer smiled and cupped Sam's cheek. "You are most welcome. Though if you were to stop injuring yourself, it would be a weight off my mind."

Sam smiled and leaned into his touch. "How about we don't separate anymore, then you can keep an eye on me."

"Even better," Lucifer said. "Are you feeling well?"

"All fixed up," Sam said. "How did things go with you?"

"We were successful. Your brother has Pestilence's ring. I will allow him to tell you all the details."

Sam nodded. "It looks like we have a free afternoon then. What would you like to do?"

"What would _you _like to do?" Lucifer asked. He didn't care what happened next as long as he was with Sam.

Sam considered. "I'm kinda hungry. How about we head into town and get some food and then we can go to Falls Park."

"A picnic?" Lucifer asked.

Sam looked awkward. "If you think it's silly..."

"Not at all. I will happily accompany you."

Sam turned to Bobby. "Can you fill Dean in on where we're going?"

Bobby nodded. "Sure. Do you want to take my car, or are you happy with angel air over there?"

"A car would probably be simpler," Sam said.

Bobby tossed him a set of keys and Sam caught them. "You ready?" he asked Lucifer.

Lucifer nodded and followed him out to the car. He climbed into the passenger seat, and Sam started the engine. They wound their way through the scrap cars and out onto the road. Sam reached across the console and took Lucifer's hand. Lucifer looked to their entwined fingers and smiled. It had been an eventful day, he thought. He had overcome Pestilence, earned Dean's grudging trust, and now he was going on his first ride in an automobile.

And he did it all for his Sam.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

A month after their defeat of Pestilence and the explosion at the Niveus factory, Sam and Lucifer left their comfortable motel room in town and headed to Bobby's.

The last four weeks had been the best Sam could remember. They hadn't hunted, as there had been no new cases for them, and he had spent every free minute with Lucifer. He woke to the angel sitting beside him in the bed, and he fell asleep in Lucifer's arms. He had never been so happy or at peace, not even in his Stanford days with Jessica. Back then, he had been hiding part of himself for her protection and his own, not now; Lucifer knew and loved every part of him, and there were no secrets between them.

Lucifer opened Bobby's door and gestured for Sam to go in ahead of him. As Sam entered the house, he saw Dean sitting on the edge of the desk eating a bowl of cereal.

"Morning," Sam said brightly.

Dean nodded.

"You want some breakfast?" Bobby called from the kitchen.

"No thanks. Lucifer brought me pancakes from the diner."

Dean swallowed his mouthful and scoffed. "You're becoming quite the spoilt brat, you know?"

Sam laughed and patted his stomach. "Yep. Jealous?"

"As if," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "What are you two doing here so early anyway?"

"Lucifer woke me early," Sam said.

Dean pretended to gag. "I don't need to know that stuff, Sam."

Sam grinned. "It wasn't _that_. Apparently, angel chatter was loud. He woke me complaining about it."

"What's up with that?" Dean asked Lucifer. "Something big happening?"

Lucifer shrugged. "I tuned it out soon after it started. I merely know something has my brothers excited."

Castiel arrived then, and he moved directly to Lucifer. "Did you hear?"

Lucifer nodded. "Some. I tuned it out fast, though. I have no desire to hear them congratulating each other on their own brilliance."

Castiel frowned. "I could not hear it clearly. Since my fall, I have been excluded from their discussion. I was reliant on you to hear.

Sam sidled up beside Lucifer and entwined their hands. "Why do we even want to hear? Why does it matter?"

"Because it could be important, Sam," Castiel said impatiently. "The last time the communication in Heaven was so loud was the day I raised Dean from Perdition."

"Okay," Sam said. "It's important." He turned to Lucifer. "Can you tune in and see what's got them so jumpy?"

"I wouldn't bother," a familiar and hated voice said. "It's all a bunch of self congratulation going on at the moment. It's all a bit ridiculous if you ask me."

Sam spun around and saw the Trickster sitting on the edge of Bobby's countertop. He scowled. He didn't care that it was Lucifer's brother, the archangel Gabriel. To Sam, he would always be the Trickster, the creature that forced him to watch his brother die over and over again.

"Gabriel." Lucifer smiled at his brother. "What can we do for you?"

"I bring you tidings, dear brother."

Dean snorted. "Of great joy?"

Gabriel shook his head. "Depends on your point of view. Now, first things first, why didn't I know you had a baby brother? Other than Gigantor over there, of course."

"Adam?" Sam said. "What's he got to do with anything?"

"He has got something to do with _everything_," Gabriel said. He scooted off the counter and walked into the study. "It seems he has risen again. Bit cliché if you ask me. Like that's never happened before. Hell, you two"—he gestured between Sam and Dean—"do it so often it's practically commonplace."

"What are you here to say, Gabriel?" Lucifer asked, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

Gabriel turned to look at Lucifer and the bright smile he had been sporting faded. "He is coming for you, Lucifer."

Lucifer took an automatic step back. "But Dean hasn't... The brother?"

Gabriel nodded. "Freshly risen for the occasion."

"What's happening, Lucifer?" Sam asked. He was worried. Lucifer looked nervous.

"Michael is coming," Lucifer said heavily. "He has taken your brother, Adam, as a vessel, and he is coming for me."

"But he can't!" Sam said. "Dean is his vessel."

"Technically, it's a bloodline thing. Anyone of your father's line will do," Gabriel said.

"How do you know this?" Lucifer asked.

"I heard the chatter this morning, so I made a quick trip home. You should have seen their faces. Michael's especially was something to savor."

"You went to Heaven?" Lucifer asked incredulously.

Gabriel nodded. "Yes, and I arrived in time to see the news coming in live. Adam has been raised. It's all down to that malignant meddler Zachariah."

Dean cursed. "I knew there was a reason I hated that guy."

Gabriel nodded. "You're not the only one, Deano. We all hate him, but he is smart, which is the problem. Your little brother is primed and ready for vessel duty which means..."

"Michael is coming for me," Lucifer said.

"No!" Sam shook his head jerkily. "He can't do that!" His mind reeled. He couldn't think. Michael coming for Lucifer. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. Lucifer was good now. Why would Michael want to kill him?

"Doesn't he know about Lucifer's change of heart?" Dean asked. "There's no need for him to go smiting now."

Sam lifted his head hopefully. "Does he know?"

Gabriel nodded. "He knows and it doesn't change anything. You must understand, Michael isn't concerned with protecting the world from Lucifer—this fight will destroy half the planet. He is doing it because he believes it is what our father wants him to do."

Sam felt like he had been punched in the gut. All he believed of Heaven and Hell and angels had been destroyed over the past few years, but he had never lost faith in a merciful God, until now. What kind of God would demand Lucifer be killed when he had renounced evil?

Lucifer guided Sam to a chair and sat him down just in time, as Sam's legs seemed to have given up their task of holding him upright. He stood beside him, resting a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"What the hell are we going to do?" Bobby asked in a breathless voice.

Gabriel stared at Lucifer and a moment of communication passed between them.

"No," Lucifer said brutally. "I must fight him."

"But the world will be destroyed," Dean said. "There has to be another way."

"There is," Gabriel said. "You can use the rings."

"I told you no!" Lucifer shouted. "I'm not doing that again."

"Lucifer, I know it's hard, but you have to see—"

"I said no!" Lucifer bellowed. He released Sam's shoulder and marched out of the house.

"Lucifer?" Sam got to his feet and made to follow, but Dean laid a hand on his arm.

"Just give him a minute," he said.

Outside, there was a crack of thunder and rain began to pelt the windows.

"Could someone explain what's going on, please?" Bobby said. "'Cause other than the fact the boys' brother has been taken as a vessel, I didn't understand a word of that."

Gabriel sighed and flopped down onto a chair, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hand. "Michael has his vessel, which means he is now, or soon will be, coming for Lucifer." He shot Sam a sympathetic look. "He doesn't care that Lucifer is now housetrained. He thinks he is on a holy mission."

"What's this about rings?" Dean asked.

Gabriel tapped his chin. "That's where things get a little... awkward. The horsemen's ring can reopen the cage Sam freed Lucifer from. Lucifer can go back to Hell, therefore cancelling Michael's holy mission."

Sam shook his head jerkily. "No. He's not doing that!"

"Sammy, what other option do we have?" Dean asked. "If Michael and Lucifer fight, it will destroy half the world."

"No," Sam said angrily. He got to his feet and went to the door. Throwing it open, he marched out onto the porch and pounded down the stairs.

He thought Dean got up to follow, as he heard Bobby's voice. "No, Dean, leave him be."

* * *

Lucifer didn't go far. He couldn't bear to be apart from Sam, but he had to be away to vent his fury before it resulted in Sam getting hurt. The storm came, and he was quickly drenched to the skin. He cared not; it made no difference to him.

He couldn't go back to the cage. The cage was to be alone, to be without Sam. The very thought of it was abhorrent.

He clenched his fists and a bolt of lightning touched down on the ground in front of him. He realized he was being careless, the house could be hit, and he tried to tamp down his fury. The lightning ceased, but the rain continued.

He heard the door slam and then Sam's voice calling out to him. "Lucifer! Lucifer, please!"

He stepped around a stack of cars and saw Sam running down the steps, his eyes roving, looking for Lucifer.

"I'm here," he said gently.

Sam ran to him and fell into his open arms. "I'm sorry," Sam said. "I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Lucifer said, stroking Sam's back. "None of this is your fault."

Sam leaned back to look him in the eye. "It feels like my fault, like I should have known. I didn't even think of Adam. I thought it had to be Dean or no one."

Lucifer cupped Sam's face in one hand and ran the pad of his thumb over his cheek. "You weren't to know. I didn't. I never imagined Michael's vendetta would continue when I renounced the apocalypse. I thought he would be satisfied."

"What do we do?" Sam asked. "Can we run? We could go now. We can stay on the run."

Lucifer smiled. "You would do that? Give up your family, your life, for me?"

Sam nodded. "Of course."

Lucifer was overwhelmed with love for Sam. It filled him. No one had ever offered to give him themselves in the way Sam had. No one had loved him like that before.

"I cannot ask you to do that," Lucifer said. "Besides, it will not work. Michael will seek me wherever I go. Sooner or later, he will find me."

"Then what do we do?" Sam asked desperately.

Lucifer sighed. He knew there were only two options, to meet Michael on the battlefield or to banish himself to the cage again. To do one would be to break the heart of the man he loved, and to do the other would be to break himself. He couldn't go back to the cage. He couldn't. He would rather die.

He looked into Sam's wide trusting eyes, and he knew the choice was made for him without his consent. Sam believed he was a good person. Everything he was trying to be now was to emulate Sam. He knew what Sam would do if in his position. It was what Sam would never ask Lucifer to do for him, even though he needed it.

He must banish himself back to the cage.

To fight Michael would be to risk the destruction of the earth, and that act would destroy Sam. He had given everything to protecting others; Lucifer needed to follow his example and give himself to protect the man he loved. He couldn't care less about the rest of the world. They could burn for all he cared. What mattered now was Sam and what Sam needed him to do.

"We cannot run and I cannot fight," he said gently.

Sam nodded. "I know, but we have no choice."

Lucifer smiled wryly. Sam didn't even consider Lucifer going back to the cage. It doesn't register with him as an option. He loved Lucifer so much that he didn't even think of it, despite it being the only viable option for humankind. That was why Lucifer had to do it, to protect Sam.

"I must return to the cage," he said heavily.

Sam jerked back from him. "No!"

"Sam, you must see. It's the only way."

Sam shook his head. "You can't leave me."

Lucifer reached for Sam, but Sam flinched away from his touch. "Sam, please."

"No, Lucifer!" Sam said brutally. "We have to find another way. We can talk to Michael. Explain that things are different now. We can..."

For the first time since taking on this vessel, Lucifer understood the expression 'heartbreaking', as he could feel it. His heart was breaking as he watched Sam struggle to find a solution.

"There has to be something we can do," Sam said plaintively.

"I wish there was," Lucifer said. "You don't know how much I wish that. But there isn't. I cannot go to Michael. When we meet, we fight, that's all there is to it. Michael will not give me a chance to explain."

"But I could..."

Lucifer pressed a finger to Sam's mouth, halting the flow of words. "There is nothing we can do, Sam."

Sam blinked and a tear rolled down his cheek. "This isn't fair. You've changed. Why can't he see that?"

Lucifer pressed his forehead to Sam's. "Because he is a good son that does as he was ordered. Many millennia ago, Michael was given the task of being my jailer, and he is devoted to that order."

"He's a dick," Sam said bitterly.

Lucifer chuckled. "I don't disagree. Now, calm yourself down. We should go back inside. You're going to get sick standing out here in the rain."

Sam nodded and wiped at his face. "Okay. Do we... When do we have to do this? How much time do we have?"

"A few days maybe."

Sam moaned. "That's not long enough."

"It will have to be. There are things that we must do. I need Death's ring."

"Not today," Sam pleaded. "Can't we just go somewhere together? Just us. I don't want to be with people now."

"As you wish. Let's speak to your brother, explain what's happening, and then we can go away together. The world is at your feet. Where would you like to go?"

Sam considered for a moment. "Membata."

Lucifer nodded. "Membata it is."

Lucifer took Sam's hand and he led him back to the house. He had to guide Sam, as he seemed to be on autopilot. Lucifer was needed to be the strong one when he felt the furthest thing from strong. He was going back to the cage and leaving Sam behind.

The thought of it terrified him.

* * *

It was late, and Sam and Lucifer were sitting on the beach and waiting for the sun to reach the ocean. They had spent the day alone on the island, both of them trying to ignore what was happening and concentrating on being together.

As the sun reached the horizon, Sam leaned back on his elbows and looked into Lucifer's eyes. He was surrounded by light from the sinking sun, creating a halo around his head. He had never seemed more ethereal or beautiful to Sam. He looked like the angel he was, and Sam wondered for perhaps the hundredth time what kind of god could demand this sacrifice of his own son.

"What are you thinking?" Lucifer asked, tracing a finger over Sam's cheek and across his lips. "You seem deep in thought."

"I'm thinking that you are an angel," Sam said.

Lucifer laughed. "You know that already. A fallen angel I may be, but I am still an angel."

Sam smiled sadly and nodded. "I meant in the cliché human sense. You are my angel. You have done so much for me, and now..."

"Now I have to leave you," Lucifer said.

Sam shook his head. "I don't want to talk about that now. Can we just... I don't know... pretend?"

Lucifer nodded and leaned back on one elbow facing Sam. "If that is what you want, of course we can pretend."

Sam moved closer to Lucifer and lay down flat on the sand, looking up into Lucifer's face. "It's been perfect, being here with you. I wish we could do this forever."

"There are many things I wish I could show you. We have the world and time to travel, but no time to do it."

Sam frowned. "Pretending, remember? Tell me where you would take me."

Lucifer smiled. "I want to show you the world as it was before humanity took over. Whole continents with nothing but nature. We could travel anywhere and everywhere, seeing whoever you wish to see."

Sam smiled sadly. "That sounds nice. You know, for all the travelling Dean and I do, I've hardly seen anything of the world. I've never even seen the Grand Canyon."

"I will show it to you," Lucifer promised. "And every other wonder you can think of."

Sam knew this would never happen, they were just pretending, but he closed his eyes and let Lucifer whisper to him about all the places they would go.

When the sun sank fully and stars came out in its place, they laid back together with their hands entwined staring up at the heavens. When Sam got cold, Lucifer built him a driftwood fire and they sat curled around each other, staring into the flames.

And later, when Lucifer leaned over Sam and kissed him, Sam allowed him to take control and to make him forget that this wasn't just a night, it was their last night.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

"You want me to give you my ring?" Death asked incredulously. "_My_ ring."

Lucifer nodded coldly. "I have need of it."

"You can only have one use for my ring, and I cannot imagine you are prepared to use it for that. Unless..." Death raised an eyebrow. "Can it be him?"

Lucifer looked out of the window to where Sam was standing with Dean and Castiel. He was trying not to peer through the window, Lucifer could tell, but his eyes strayed occasionally. Dean was talking, possibly trying to distract Sam, but Sam didn't seem to be paying him any attention.

Death laughed. "I heard that you were changed. When you called me off from South Dakota, I wondered, but I never imagined it was this firmly cast.

"I don't have time to indulge your curiosities, Death. I am working against the clock."

"You will made time for me, Lucifer. You may have bound me, but do not forget who you are talking to. I am not like the others; you cannot defeat me by chopping off my hand. I am eternal."

"I am aware of it," Lucifer said. "Which is why I am asking."

Death steepled his fingers under his chin. "I am tempted to give you what you ask, but first you will appease my curiosity. Who is he?"

"His name is Sam," Lucifer said fondly.

Death's lips curved into a slow smile. "Your vessel. How poetic. I would like to meet him."

Lucifer stiffened. "That will not happen."

He didn't want Death anywhere near Sam. He hated that Sam insisted on coming to Chicago with him, but given what was to come, he had no heart to deny him. Every moment with Sam was precious.

Death sat back in his seat and pushed the plate of half-eaten pizza away. "I will meet him, Lucifer, whether by your will or not."

"You are bound to me," Lucifer said.

"Yes, by some unseemly little spell. Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead, you can command me to do that for you, but you haven't stolen my will. Besides, if you have come for my ring, it means you will not be here to control me much longer."

Lucifer's hand slapped down on the table. "You will not touch him."

Death shook his head. "And how are you to stop me when you are gone? Bring him to me, Lucifer, and I shall give _him_ my ring."

"Why him?" Lucifer asked.

Death swirled the ring on his finger. "Because he is deserving of it. You, on the other hand, are not."

Sam was peering through the window again, and worry was creasing his brow. Against his will, Lucifer gestured for him to come inside. Sam looked relieved and he quickly entered the restaurant and came to stand beside Lucifer. His hand brushed against Lucifer's, and Lucifer curled his fingers around Sam's to comfort him. He knew this had to be daunting for Sam but to his credit, his hand was steady.

"Sam, this is Death," Lucifer said gently.

Sam nodded and Death smiled. "It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Sam. I have heard much about you."

Sam looked down at his feet. He hadn't spoken, and Lucifer thought he was too intimidated to try.

"Now, I hear you want this," Death said holding up his hand. "And I am inclined to give it to you, Sam."

Sam looked up. "Me?"

Death nodded. "Yes, you. I see that you have earned it, taming Lucifer the way you have."

Lucifer stiffened. Death was taking extraordinary liberties.

"So, are you going to give it to me?" Sam asked boldly.

Lucifer smiled. Sam had found his confidence at last.

Death took the ring from his finger and laid it in the palm of his hand. "I am."

Sam held out his hand, and Death tilted his palm so the ring dropped onto Sam's.

"That is a very powerful thing you now hold in your hand, Sam Winchester," Death said. "Do not forget that."

Sam nodded. "I won't."

Lucifer rubbed his thumb over the back of Sam's hand. They were done there. They had the ring; the last piece of the puzzle was in place. He was on a path now that there was no return from.

Death got to his feet and bowed to Sam and Lucifer. "I will take my leave now."

Lucifer nodded and watched Death sweep from the room. Sam sighed as he disappeared through the door.

"Are you okay?" Lucifer asked.

"Yeah. That was just a little... Wow. Death."

Lucifer smiled. "He liked you."

Sam shuddered. "Which is all kinds of creepy."

Lucifer raised their entwined hands and kissed Sam's fingertips. "Come. Your brother is worried."

They went out to the street where Dean and Castiel were waiting, and then, leaving only a faint rustling sound behind, they were gone, too.

* * *

Dean perched on the edge of Bobby's desk and watched Sam as he worked at the counter, making coffee. His movements were a little jerky, as if his whole body was tensed. Dean suspected Sam was getting a little leaky around the eyes, and he didn't want to draw attention to it.

Lucifer was watching him, too, with an oddly serene expression. Dean didn't understand it. If he was in Lucifer's position, he would be sweating bullets, but Lucifer looked the same way he always did when he was with Sam—oddly content.

Dean had to admit that he had underestimated Lucifer. He never believed he could make such a sacrifice. He was under no disillusions that he was doing it for the good of humanity. This sacrifice was for Sam and no one else.

Dean watched Sam brace himself against the counter for a moment and then rub at his face before turning and smiling. His eyes were red and his cheeks puffy, and Dean knew he was right in thinking Sam had been crying. He couldn't imagine what his brother was going through. Dean had never loved someone the way Sam loved Lucifer. Nor had he ever been loved the way Sam was. He couldn't imagine how it must feel for Sam to know what Lucifer was going to do. He knew his brother was going to need him more than ever in the coming days, and he hoped Sam would accept his help.

Sam handed him a coffee and Dean accepted it with a smile and nod of thanks.

Sam leaned against the wall beside Lucifer, and Lucifer automatically shifted so he and Sam were pressed against each other, shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip. It was as if they couldn't be close enough to each other. The nearer it got to time, the more they clung together.

"So," Bobby said. "I hate to bring this up, but what happens next?"

Lucifer started as if he had been deep in thought. He probably had been. He certainly had enough to think about.

"We have a little time," Lucifer said. "Maybe a couple of days. I will need to perform the ritual that opens the cage, and then I must... I suppose you could call it a leap of faith."

Bobby nodded thoughtfully. "How much damage are we talking here? What will happen to the world when the cage is opened?"

"Nothing," Lucifer said. "A hole will open, and I must step in, that's all."

"You sure?" Dean asked. "When the Devil's Gate opened in Wyoming, all kinds of demons escaped."

"This was different," Lucifer said. "This is a door direct to my cage. No demons can enter or exit the cage. I was its sole inhabitant."

"Well, that's something, I guess," Bobby said, scrubbing a hand through his beard. "'Cause last time that didn't work out so well."

"Do we..." Sam cleared his throat. "Where do we do this? Do we have to go back to Maryland?"

Lucifer shook his head. "No, Sam, we don't need to go back there. The location is incidental. I could do it in Bobby's backyard and it would be safe." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think I will go to Stull to do it.

"Stull?" The name teased at Dean's mind. He knew it from somewhere. "That's an old bone yard outside of Lawrence. Why Lawrence?"

Lucifer shrugged. "That was where the battle between myself and Michael is foretold to be. It would be poetic to do it there."

Sam nodded as if the location didn't matter to him. Dean supposed it didn't. For Sam, only the end result mattered, and that end result would tear him away from the person he loved. Dean wished he could go back and change things. He wished he could somehow stop Sam from going to Lucifer in the first place. Then they would never have fallen in love, and Sam wouldn't be on the brink of seeing his whole world destroyed.

Lucifer turned to Sam. "Would you like to go somewhere? We have prepared everything we need to. We have a little time."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Lucifer," a voice said.

Dean turned and saw Gabriel leaning against the counter. What was it with this guy and the dramatic entrances? Had he never heard of knocking?

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, the muscle in his jaw twitching. Dean didn't know if it was because of the news Gabriel was bringing or because he was fighting against the urge to attack him. Dean had never known anyone that Sam had hated as much as the Trickster.

"I mean Michael is on his way, cream puff." Gabriel turned to Lucifer. "I have delayed him as long as I can, but there are only so many distractions Michael will allow. He is coming for you now, brother."

Sam visibly crumpled. His face sagged and he bowed at the waist. Lucifer gripped him around the shoulders and pulled him against his chest. He whispered words that Dean couldn't hear. He guessed they were supposed to be soothing, but they did nothing to calm Sam. He was shaking his head jerkily.

"Very well," Lucifer said. "We must leave now."

In response, Sam moaned, and Lucifer cupped his cheeks in his hands. "It is time, Sam. We cannot delay, or Michael will attempt to prevent me from opening the cage."

Dean turned away; he couldn't bear to see his brother hurting like that, knowing that was only going to get worse.

"We should call Castiel," Lucifer said. "We cannot take the time to drive to Kansas, and you will need a way to get back here... after."

"Good thinking," Gabriel said. "I've got to jet. I'm going to see if I can trip Michael on the way out of the door. It might buy you a little time."

Dean raised his eyes. "Cas, we need you, buddy. Time's up."

* * *

They arrived outside the rusted gates of the cemetery, and Dean and Castiel hung back as Lucifer took Sam's hand and led him inside.

Sam gripped Lucifer's hand tight, as if by holding onto him he could stop what he was about to do. He was scared, more scared than he had ever been in his life. The idea of what was coming terrified him. He tried to block the thoughts from his mind, concentrating on the physical, like Lucifer's hand in his own, but it didn't work. The thoughts battered at his mind. He was here for one reason and one reason only. To say goodbye to Lucifer.

They came to the center of the graveyard, and Lucifer stopped. Sam looked down at the ground. This was where it would happen, where he would have to say goodbye.

Lucifer put a finger under Sam's chin and lifted his face so he could look him in the eye. "It will be okay, Sam," he said gently.

"I'm scared," Sam said in a voice choked with emotion.

"I know you are, but it will all be over soon."

"That's what scares me."

Tears begin to fall in earnest, and Sam made no attempt to stem their flow. His heart was breaking; it was right that he was crying.

Lucifer stepped closer to him and kissed his tears away. "Don't cry, Sam. Please, don't cry."

Sam sniffed and tried to control himself. He forced a smile, which made Lucifer look at him sympathetically.

"It's going to be okay."

"How?" Sam asked. "You're leaving me. There is nothing okay about that."

"You will be fine. You have Dean and Bobby and Castiel to look after you. I trust them to take care of you. I could never leave if I didn't believe that."

Sam shook his head. "I need you though."

"No, you don't. You're strong, Sam. Stronger than I could ever be. You will go on with your life, saving people with your brother, and I will be forgotten."

"I will never forget you." Sam couldn't believe Lucifer would believe him capable of that. As if he could ever forget the man he loved with a depth he had never felt before in his life.

"Forget is the wrong word," Lucifer admitted. "I mean that you will be able to move on from me. You will find a way. I can never do that. I will love you forever, and in the cage, forever means something you cannot comprehend. Take comfort in that, Sam. You will be forever loved."

Tears began to fall again, and Sam fisted them away. "There has to be some other way."

"There isn't" Lucifer said, cradling Sam's face in his hands. "This is the only way."

Suddenly, an idea occurred to Sam, a wonderful, bright, shining idea. He did not need to be parted from Lucifer. Something Lucifer said to him what felt like a lifetime ago. came to him '_If you say yes to me, we will be together forever. We will reside in the same body, your spirit and my own, together.'_

"I can come with you," Sam said. "You told me. If I say yes to you now, we can be together forever."

Lucifer looked like he was fighting tears. "You would do that for me?"

Sam nodded jerkily. "I have to." It was the only solution he could think of and it was perfect. They would never be parted by distance or time or death. They could have an eternity together.

Lucifer pressed a kiss to Sam's lips and stepped back. Sam reached for him instinctively. "Lucifer?"

"I cannot do it," he said. "I cannot steal your life like that."

"You're not stealing, I'm offering," Sam said. "No, I'm begging. Please, Lucifer, do this for me."

Lucifer looked pained. "I would give you anything in the world, but I cannot give you this. It is wrong of me to even want it."

"Why?" Sam asked tearfully. "Don't you want me?"

Lucifer stepped forward and gripped the back of Sam's neck. "I want this so much that it is all I can think about, I want _you _so much, but I cannot do this. Look over there." He pointed to where Dean and Castiel were standing. "That's your family, Sam. You cannot leave them behind."

"I can," Sam said.

"But your brother..."

"I love Dean, I will always love him, but I love you more. I want to be with you. I can do this."

"I cannot," Lucifer said sadly. "Your brother placed his trust in me after we dealt with Pestilence. He trusted me with you. I cannot steal you away from him now. You have a life to live, Sam. A great one. Go on and live it."

Sobs overtook Sam, and he couldn't contain them. He bowed his head and his shoulders shook. "I don't want you to go."

"I know," Lucifer said. "It will be okay."

He took the rings from his pocket and, like pieces of a puzzle, clicked them together. He examined them thoughtfully for a moment, and the tossed them onto the ground.

"Lucifer, please," Sam said through his broken sobs.

Lucifer lifted Sam's face and stared into his eyes. "I love you, Sam. I will always love you. Please don't forget me."

"Never," Sam vowed. "I promise."

Lucifer kissed him, and though it was one kiss among hundreds they had shared, it was different. It was filled with all the things they couldn't say to one another. It was their last kiss.

"I love you so much," Lucifer said.

"I love you, too," Sam choked.

Lucifer cupped Sam's face in his hands again, staring into his eyes as if memorizing them, and then he stepped away. He stood by the rings and chanted something in enochian.

It was as if a whirlwind was tearing through their clearing. The earth opened and a swirling vortex appeared.

Lucifer took one last searching look at Sam, and then he jumped gracefully into the hole.

Sam's eyes blurred with tears, and he didn't see what happened next. All he knew is that when his eyes cleared, the hole was gone, as was Lucifer. The rings sat inconsequentially on the ground, looking perfectly harmless.

Sam dropped to his knees and howled out his pain. His forehead pressed against the grass where the rings lay, and he gave full voice to the crushing pain he was experiencing.

A hand rested on his shoulder and a voice whispered in his ear, but Sam paid them no attention.

All that mattered was the overwhelming truth, and the truth was that Lucifer was gone.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

Dean had never felt so useless in his life. Sam was literally brought to his knees by grief, and all he could do was watch. He knelt beside Sam and put an arm around his shoulders, but Sam shrugged him off with a moan of, "No!"

"Came on, Sammy. We can't stay here," Dean said. "Michael might come."

Sam shook his head and his hands came out to grip the grass and dirt. "I don't care."

"He can kill you, Sam," Castiel said gently. "You no longer have the protection of being Lucifer's vessel. He might smite you in revenge."

Sam raised his tear-streaked face to look at Castiel. "You're not saying anything to make me want to leave. If Michael wants to kill me, he can come do it. I'll thank him."

Dean felt like he had been punched in the gut. "You don't mean that," he said in a breathless voice. "You can't."

Sam just looked down at the ground again.

"Sam!" Dean barked, dropping to his knees in front of Sam and grabbing his brother's shoulders. He forced Sam upright so he could look at him. "I don't want to hear that bullshit from you, okay?"

Sam refused to meet his eye. He just stared down at the ground.

"Sammy, I mean it," Dean said. "I don't want to hear that talk from you."

He couldn't even comprehend what Sam was going through, but he couldn't think about Sam dying. He just couldn't. He had lived in that world before, after Cold Oak, and he cannot allow his mind to go there again. He was barely hanging on as it was. Seeing his brother suffering had always done that to him.

"Cas, man, help me get him up," Dean said.

Unable to resist Castiel's pure strength, Sam was eased to his feet. He bent down again and picked up the rings that had opened the cage. He clutched them to his chest as if they were something precious. Dean guessed they were. They were the last thing he had of Lucifer. Dean didn't think Sam even had a picture of the man he loved.

Castiel supported Sam with a hand at his elbow, and at Dean's nod, he returned them to Bobby's house.

The journey seemed to steal the last of Sam's strength. Perhaps because he was away from where he last saw Lucifer, for whatever reason, his knees buckled and Castiel supported him as Dean eased a chair under him.

Bobby looked expectantly at Dean, and Dean nodded. It was over. Lucifer did it. They are safe.

Bobby nodded and then looked sadly over at Sam who was bowed over in the hard chair he was sitting on, clutching the rings to his chest with tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I think we could all use a drink," Bobby said, crossing to the kitchen and pulling glasses out of the cupboard. He poured them each a measure of whiskey and handed the glasses round. Sam ignored him as he tried to hand him his glass.

"Come on, Sam. It might help," Dean said then immediately cursed himself. How could a drink made anything better for Sam? What Sam needed was Lucifer, and he was gone

Sam didn't even react to Dean's words. It was like he hadn't heard him.

Dean drank his own whiskey down in a gulp and placed the glass on the table. He had to do something for his brother, anything. The only thing he could think to do was clean him up a little. He went to the bathroom and fetched a washcloth and a bowl of water. Going back into the study, he set the bowl down on the table and reached for Sam's grass and dirt stained hands. Sam let him take his hands one at a time and wipe the dirt away. Dean didn't think Sam was even aware of him. He seemed to have moved into a stage of pain that was making him oblivious to everything happening around him.

"Sammy," he said gently. "Do you want to get changed?"

Sam didn't even blink in response.

Dean was freaked out. Sam was unnaturally still now. His breaths had changed from the hitching gasps to steady inhales and exhales. The tears continued to stream down his cheeks though.

"Do you wanna lie down or something?" Bobby asked.

Sam made no response. Dean crouched down on the floor in front of Sam and tilted his head so he was in his brother's line of sight.

"Sammy, you gotta talk to us."

"I want to go home," Sam said tonelessly.

Dean frowned. He was home, or at least the closest thing to a home they have outside of the Impala, and Dean doesn't think he meant he wanted to go to the car.

"You are home, boy," Bobby said. "Why don't you go lie down for a while? Your bed's where you left it."

Sam shook his head. "I want to go back to the motel."

Bobby looked stunned, but Dean understood. It may have only been theirs for a matter of weeks, but the motel in town was where Sam and Lucifer were happy together. It made sense for Sam to want to be there now.

"I can take you," Castiel offered.

Sam nodded. "Okay." He got to his feet, still clutching the rings, and looked to Castiel.

Dean gave Castiel a look that plainly said he was going along for the ride, and Castiel nodded. A moment later, they were in a shabby looking motel room Dean had never been in before, though it looked like a hundred others he had stayed in over the years, if a little cleaner.

Sam threw himself down onto the bed and pulled his knees up to his chest. Dean sat behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder. He was at a loss to know what to do to help Sam, but he wanted him to know he was there.

"Sammy," he said. "Do you need anything?"

"I want to be alone," Sam said in a hoarse voice.

"I'm not leaving you here," Dean said.

Sam turned and looked Dean in the eye.

"Please, Dean. I just want to be alone. Please let me be alone."

Dean couldn't deny him, not when his eyes were pleading with him to understand. If Dean was in Sam's position, he would want to be alone, too. He nodded, squeezed Sam's shoulder, and then he got to his feet.

"You want me to get a room nearby in case?" he asked.

Sam shook his head. "No, I'll be fine. If I need you, I'll..."

"Call me," Castiel said. "And I will come."

Sam nodded, and a single tear slipped down his cheek. "I will."

Dean gave Sam one last searching look, and then he followed Castiel out the door.

* * *

Dean jerked awake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He was halfway down the stairs before he was even aware that he was in motion.

"Cas!" he bellowed. "I need you."

He heard Bobby came running out of his room and following him down the stairs. "Dean, what is it?" he asked.

Dean didn't answer. He was already in the study, and he was spinning on his heel looking around for Castiel. "Cas, man, seriously!"

Bobby grabbed his shoulders and turned him. "What's wrong?"

"Sammy! I saw... I dreamed... We've got to check on him!"

Dean couldn't put his dream into words. That would be to make it real. He couldn't bear to explain how he saw his brother laid out on the bed, drenched in blood, with wide staring eyes. He can't bear to explain the deep slashes on Sam's arms or the way his chest was still.

"I am here." Castiel's voice came from behind him. "What do you need?"

"Has Sam called you at all?" Dean demands.

Castiel shook his head. "No. I have been listening, though."

Dean cursed. "You got to take me over there, Cas. I'm worried something's happened to him."

"Of course," Castiel said. He gripped Dean's arm, and a moment later, they were in Sam's motel room.

Dean felt a wave of instant relief upon seeing Sam curled up on the bed, which turned to unease when he noticed Sam's position. He hadn't moved an inch since they left him. He was awake, his eyes were wide and staring, but he didn't react to their presence at all.

"Sam?" Dean said, dropping down beside the bed. "You okay, man?"

Sam blinked and his eyes moved slowly from the wall to look at Dean. His shoulders shrugged in a barely discernible movement.

Dean gripped his arm. "We're gonna take you back to Bobby's, okay?"

Again, Sam shrugged. He allowed Dean to pull his legs around so he was sitting on the edge of the bed and then to ease him to his feet.

It was like moving a mannequin, Dean thought. Sam didn't resist his movements; he just allowed himself to be shifted into what Dean wanted him to be. It was unnatural, and it creeped Dean out.

"Cas, man, you can take us back now," Dean said, gripping Sam's arm.

Bobby was waiting for them when they got back, pacing between the study and the kitchen. He looked up with relief when he saw Sam, and then concern creased his brow as he took in Sam's blank expression.

"You okay, boy?" he asked.

Sam nodded in that same mechanical way that Dean hated.

"You gotta be tired," Dean said. "Let's get you up to bed."

Sam nodded and allowed himself to be led up the stairs and into the room with the two beds that he and Dean shared. He fell onto the bed, and drew his knees up to his chest.

"You want to get changed?" Dean asked. "You can't be very comfortable in your jeans."

Sam shook his head.

Dean squatted down beside him and looked into his brother's blank eyes. "You've gotta talk to me, Sammy. You're scaring me."

"I'm fine," Sam said tonelessly.

"You need anything? Something to eat? A drink?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm fine."

Dean wasn't sure if he hadn't preferred it when his brother was being silent. Hearing him talking in that toneless voice, devoid of any emotion, was freaky.

"Okay then. You close your eyes and get some sleep."

Sam dutifully closed his eyes, but Dean didn't believe he was sleeping. He was just doing what he was told.

Dean got into his own bed and pillowed his head against his arm. He didn't think he would get any sleep that night. He was going to be too distracted by watching over his brother.

* * *

Things didn't get any better in the days that followed. Dean could relax slightly, as he had his brother with him where he can keep an eye on him, but he was still wound tighter than he had ever been before.

Living with Sam was like living with a stranger that had overtaken his brother's body. He moved silently from room to room, eating when he was told to, closing his eyes and lying still at night. Dean didn't think he was really sleeping; as days passed, the shadows under Sam's eyes darkened.

Dean woke up on the Friday morning, and he looked over at Sam lying on his bed. "You awake, Sam?"

Sam's eyes snapped opened and he nodded.

"You want the first shower?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded and climbed out of bed. He picked up a set of clean clothes from the pile at the end of his bed and stumbled out of the room. A moment later, Dean heard the shower start up. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. He woke every morning hoping that it would be the day that snapped Sam out of it, but it didn't happen.

He made his way downstairs to the kitchen. Bobby was sitting at the table with a mug of coffee in front of him. He nodded to Dean as he came in. Dean filled his own mug of coffee and sat down at the table opposite Bobby.

They sat in silence for a while, and then Bobby spoke. "How is he?" he asked.

"The same," Dean said.

Bobby exhaled heavily. "It's been a week, Dean. Do you think it's time we got him some help?"

Dean stiffened. "He doesn't need help, Bobby. He just needs time."

"Time's not done him any good so far," Bobby said. "Maybe he needs professional help."

Dean had thought of that before, but he would not do it. Sam didn't need strangers trying to get into his head, making him talk about what had happened to him. "What's he supposed to say, Bobby, I'm depressed because my lover cast himself back into Hell for the sake of the world? No, it's not happening. He's got all the help he needs here."

"I know you don't like to hear it, but we can't give him the help he needs," Bobby said. "He's not well."

"You think I don't know that?" Dean snapped. "Believe me, Bobby, I know what he needs, and it's his family. He'll come out of this eventually, in his own time."

"Dean..."

"No, Bobby! I'm not sending to some doctor that will lock him away somewhere. He belongs here with us."

There was a soft indrawn breath behind them. Dean jumped to his feet and looked around. Sam was standing in the doorway, his hair still damp from the shower. Dean wondered how much he heard.

"Sammy," he said. "You okay?"

Sam nodded. "I'm fine."

"Here, come sit down," Bobby said. "I'll fix you some breakfast."

Sam moved to the table and sat down. He rested his chin on his hand and stared across the room.

Dean might be wrong, but he thought there was something different in Sam's eyes. He looked a little more alert than usual, as if, behind those empty eyes, he was thinking hard.

He hoped this might be a sign of something changing.

xXx

Sam was trying, he was trying hard, but he couldn't pull himself out of the black hole of depression he had fallen into.

The only bright spot in his life were the moments in which his mind allowed him to lose himself in memories of his time with Lucifer. He played out their times together like a slideshow in his mind. He would be happy to do that forever, but there was always someone demanding something of him, pulling him from his memories of the man he loved. They demanded that he ate and slept and showered. And they asked questions, endless questions. Are you okay? No. He was never okay. Does he need anything? Yes. He needed Lucifer back. Can they do anything for him? They can let him go.

It was for them that he stayed, for Dean and Bobby, when what he really wanted was to curl up and die. But he loved them and he couldn't hurt them by doing that to himself. Instead, he forced himself to get through it, day after day, when there was a gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be.

He thought he was doing a good job before he came downstairs in time to hear Bobby and Dean's conversation and heard how much he was hurting them, despite trying hard to do the opposite.

He sat down at the table and ate the plate of food Bobby set down in front of him, though he tasted nothing. His mind was busy processing what he'd heard. He wasn't doing enough to protect them from his pain, despite his best efforts, which meant that he was failing.

It was freeing in a way, that knowledge. He didn't have to pretend so hard, as they were seeing through it anyway. When he finished his meal, he went back to his and Dean's bedroom and lay down on the bed. He pulled the rings out of his pocket and turned them over in his hand.

He had one last hope for happiness, a hope that he had been ignoring since Lucifer had gone, because he knew it would hurt people he loved. He knew better now. He was already hurting them, so there was nothing left to lose.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of longing. He knew what he was going to do and waiting for the right time was physically painful. Finally, night came, and Dean directed him to bed. He lay with his eyes closed until he heard Dean's breaths change into the soft sighs of sleep. Then, he crept from the bed and down the stairs.

He sat down at Bobby's desk, and wrote for a while, getting everything he needed down on paper. When he was done, he stuffed the letter into an envelope and laid it in the center of the kitchen table. He took off his watch and put that down on top of it. Satisfied, he went out to the yard and pulled the rings from his pocket.

He tossed them down onto the ground between the rows of junkers and closed his eyes.

He remembered the enochian words well, as they were indelibly marked in his memory as the last words his lover spoke.

The ground opened and Sam took a deep breath. He looked up at the darkened windows and whispered a goodbye to his brother. Then he stepped into the nothingness.

There was a sense of swirling colors and blinding lights, and then he landed heavily. The air was knocked out of him by the fall, and he gasped. Then a voice came to him, and it was the most welcome voice in the world.

It was his angel, and he was calling his name.


	29. Chapter 29

**Epilogue**

_Dean,_

_I'm sorry._

_There is so much that needs to be said, but as I sit down to write it, I can't find the words._

_I want to thank you for everything you have done for me, every time you put me first and never asked for anything in return. I know I have been a burden to you, but I will never be that again._

_I tried to stay, for you and Bobby, but I wasn't strong enough. I miss Lucifer so much it is a physical pain dragging me down._

_There is nothing you could have done. Don't blame yourself. I'm where I want to be now, with the man I love._

_You and Bobby take care of each other, and be good to Cas._

_Keep fighting._

_I love you, Dean._

_Goodbye,_

_Sam_

Dean's hand slackened and the letter dropped inconsequentially to the floor. On leaden feet, he crossed the room and went out to the porch.

Between the stacks of junkers, the rings lay on the ground. Dean bent and picked them up. The cool metal felt heavy in his hand, as if their power was weighing them down.

He fell to his knees as he heard Bobby's voice calling to him from the porch. He turned, and tears flowed down his face.

"He's gone, Bobby."


End file.
